Once You've Been Possessed:Devil Take The Hindmost
by Caelia di Mekio
Summary: An alternative ending to Love Never Dies, in which Christine choose differently. C/R then E/C, plus GustaveXOC
1. Make Your Choice, Do It For Our Son

A/N: So, ever since I heard the LND soundtrack, there was this little part of my brain that kept me asking 'what if Christine had left Phantom instead of singing?' In the end, it was bugging me so much, I decided to see what would happen if I tried to expand my thoughts. So, here it is, starting towards the end of 'Before The Performance' on the CD.

* * *

_**CHRISTINE**_

"Please, Christine." Raoul brushes a stray lock of hair back into my elaborate hairstyle gently. _Oh, Raoul, why do you choose now to show me this kind of affection and tenderness? Now, after ten years?_ "I know what I'm asking is sudden, but we must hurry if you're to be safe. Let's leave."

"Raoul… I … may I have a moment?" I need to clear my head without him here … or Erik.

"Of course, Christine." He smiles warmly and kisses me sweetly … _our first kiss … on the Opera House roof … so passionate … so loving _… no! I can not afford to let the memories of the past infiltrate my mind now.

_ If I sing, I'll compensate for every hardship I've brought upon Erik, but if he was willing to bring me to America, after ten years … just to hear me sing one aria … will he be willing to let me go? Gustave. My little angel. He is what matters. Gustave fears his own true father. He, poor, innocent, sweet child, still believes he is Raoul's son. How long could I keep the secret, if I was always close to Erik? Would Raoul hate me for what I had done? And my son … Raoul has made his hatred for Erik clear. What will he do to a child, that he has believed his, but is the child of his enemy?_

_**Click**__. _I freeze as ice cold hands place themselves around my neck. I stiffen. "Do you never come through an ordinary door, Erik?" I whisper, gazing at both his reflection and mine in the mirror.

"Was that an attempt at humor, Christine, my sweet? Married life has changed you more than I might have thought." He smiles slyly … a fox beside a swan … and raises the most spectacular necklace I have ever seen, lovingly fastening it around my throat. The enormous, cold wine-colored garnets nestles into my flesh, the diamonds surrounding it throwing rainbows, even in the dim light of my dressing room. Gustave would marvel at the beauty of such a piece of jewelery. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with le vicomte."

"Couldn't help? You were eavesdropping intentionally." I scowl slightly. "Why is it you never leave me be when I am in a dressing room?"

"You are far too desirable. The last time I left you alone for even a slight amount of time, you married the fool who was with you. Nevertheless, it seems he's realized his situation." He lasps into song. "He knows his love is not enough. He knows he isn't what you need. He knows you're made of finer stuff. I think, on that, we're all agreed. It's time to leave him in the dust, and set the music in you free!"

His voice is so vibrant, I have to clench my fists to keep from collapsing. I must not succumb to the power of his voice again. I am not the naïve chorus girl I had been ten years ago. I am not Christine Daaé anymore. I am Madame Christine, le Vicomtesse de Chagny, La Divina. I am a wife … and a mother … He has continued, oblivious to my thoughts. "In moments, mere moments, drums will roll. There you'll stand, just like before. The crowd will hush, and then, in one sweet rush, I will hear you sing once more. And music, our music, will swell and then unwind, like two strands of melody, at last entwined! Fullfill us, complete us, make us whole! Seal our bond, forevermore! Tonight, for me, embrace your destiny! Let me hear you sing once more!"

He vanishes and I hear a rap on the door. Raoul! Has he heard Erik's voice? "Miss Daaé? It's time." A shabby looking stagehand pokes his head through the doorway.

"I-in a minute." I whisper. I reach down the front of my gown and pulled out my Papa's silver crucifix. Raising it in prayer, I sing softly: "_Kyrie eleison … Christe eleison_." _Lord, have mercy … Christ, have mercy_. "Papa? It is your Christine. Oh, Papa, what am I to do? My heart and soul are twisted every way, what answer can I give?" _Either way, I disobey a man who needs my love, and whose love I need! Papa, send me a sign! Please_, "I know I can't refuse, and yet I wish I could… oh, God,"_ send me guidance. If I do not recieve a clear sign, I will sing._ With as much dignity as I can muster, I rise and walk calmly to the center of the stage.

* * *

_**GUSTAVE**_

Maman is standing as still as a statue. She looks so beautiful, I can't help but wonder what she is thinking. Perhaps she is planning the day the two of us shall be spending together. I know Maman gets seasick easily, but I wonder if she would go on a roller-coaster in the park with me. I hear her whisper one of my favorite prayers:_ Pie Jesu Domine, dona eis requiem. Merciful Lord Jesus,__grant them rest._ Grant who rest? I become bored with prayers. I did after hearing countless repetitions of the Hail Mary at my First Communion when I was seven. I start singing the wordless little tune that popped into my head. I do not enjoy it quite as much as the song I played to Mr. Y, but it is still lovely. The melody, not Mr. Y.

My stomach begins to churn, almost as much as Papa's must have after he had been drinking all of last night. He would not be happy if he knew that I was aware, but it was not hard to tell. Our hotel suite reeks of alcohol, even if Papa does not. I cannot help but feel revolsion toward Papa, and Mr. Y, the latter even more. I do not understand how Maman could be friends with someone as hideous as he is. Last night, it was not the mysterious person intent on drowning me who haunted my dreams. It was Mr. Y's hideous face, twisted, burned, and scarred, leering at me and singing, in his tricky way, about the beauty underneath, persuading me to accept him. My lip begins to tremble. My voice shakes, but I continue to sing.

I see Papa. He looks about nervously, his eyes on Maman. I hear him whispering. "Will she sing? Will she flee? What is she thinking now? Is it him? Is it me? Devil take the hindmost."

I remember what that phrase meant. Maman had explained it to me when I heard one of Papa's friends yelling at him. Papa had been asking for some help with our 'financial issues' and the man had yelled that it was Papa's own fault and the devil take the hindmost. Maman said it meant that our circumstances were Papa's problem, and this world was one where it was 'every man for himself.'Papa keeps walking around in circles, and I feel eyes boring into me. I look up and see Mr. Y! His eyes meet mine, for a moment, then I break contact. Those eyes that burn! How could Maman trust those eyes?

_**

* * *

CHRISTINE**_

_Gustave, I hear you. Raoul, I hear you. Erik, I hear you._ I am beginning to feel dizzy. Phrases echo in my head … _sing for me … no turning back … please, Christine … she will fail him now … devil take the hindmost … make your choice … do it for our son … _

Our son … Gustave is more my son than he is Raoul's or Erik's. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Meg. Maybe she can help. I raise my hand and widen my eyes. She recognizes our childhood signal.

_ "What is it? _She mouths.

_"I can't stay here. I need you to sing in my place."_

_ "Christine, I'm not the singer you are."_

_ "Meg, please? They love you here! You're a star!_

_ "So are you. La Divina, est-ce que ce n'est pas exact?_

_ "That's not what I want."_

_ "What about what Erik wants? Ten years, Christine!"_

_ "I cannot sing for him. Not anymore. Remember what I said, ten long years ago, my dear friend? If he finds me, it won't ever end. It won't end if I sing tonight."_

_ "You don't know that!"_

_ "I do!"_

_ "What about your son?"_

_ "When the time is right, I'll tell Gustave … and Raoul. Someday, Meg, but not yet. I want to start over. For everyone's sake."_

_ "Leaving will only hurt Erik!"_

_ "That's why I need you, Meg. Please, try to help him heal."_

_ "I've been trying for ten years, Christine. It won't work."_ She smiles and puts an arm around Gustave as he wanders past her. I see her say something. I can't hear her, but I still know what it is: "Devil take the hindmost." A stagehand gives the order and the curtains part. Thousands of eager eyes stare at me, and my head begins to spin even more rapidly. Suddenly, I know what I must do. I use one of the few useful tricks I learned from watching La Carlotta: locking my knees and holding my breath. The technique serves its purpose and I collapse.

_**

* * *

ERIK**_

_ Christine, do you honestly believe I don't know what you're trying to do?_ It is quite clear to me that my sweet has been studying the overblown toad's little secrets. Amateur. As if I have not learned all that fool's tricks. Nevertheless, I lunge to catch her as she falls, but her precious little vicomte is there first, crying her name. I do not see her son, but I know he must be watching.

He lifts her gently in his arms and carries her back towards her dressing room. "Miss Fleck!" I snap my fingers. My dear friend glides out of the darkness.

"Sir?"

"Please find Dr. Gangle and Mr. Squelch. I'm afraid the three of you will have to make an excuse for Miss Daaé's sudden … situation. Can you manage?"

"Yes, of course. What are we to do once we've explained?" _Damn!_ I should have realized this crowd of America's greatest imbeciles would be thirsty for more entertainment. What am I to do? They will not, unfortunately, be satisfied with Meg, as she has already performed for them. They have spent the entire season witnessing my favorite trio, thus, that option is not a possibilty. The only remaining option is to use my own voice. If I could retrieve the automaton of Christine from the aerie … no, that is not possible. Even if I did synchronize the automaton's lips with my words, it would undoubtedly be a man's voice coming from its lips.

"Recompensate them all. I'm afraid we have no replacement for La Divina. Tell them Mr. Y is incredibly sorry for this mishap. Oh, and offer them complimentary refreshments. Food never fails to make those dolts listen."

"Yes, sir. And Miss Daaé?"

"If she recovers in time, and she is willing, we'll let her sing. If she decides she must depart, she will still be paid in full for the inconvenience we have caused her. In addition, for … personal reasons, I intend to be sending the de Chagny family monthly increments of pay, in care of the vicomte."

"Understood, sir. We'll go now." Fleck slips back into the dark, and I make my way towards my Christine.

_**

* * *

RAOUL**_

A rap sounds at the door. Christine starts to raise herself up from the couch. "Stay still. I don't want you faint again." I smile and place a hand on her shoulder, then walk to the door. When I open it, the thing from hell who has caused all this is standing there. "Get back!" I hiss. "Don't even think of trying to worm your way in here."

"You forget that this is my property, vicomte!" He spits back at me.

"Please." Christine whispers from her perch. "Raoul, Erik. Please, for my sake. Behave."

"For your sake?" He scoffs, brushing me aside. "What about my sake, Christine? Did you not promise that you would sing for me tonight? This is not the first time you have broken a promise!"

"Nor is this the first time you have put me, and all I love at risk for the sake of hearing my voice!" She protests furiously.

"For all of you, not only your voice! I have tasted that once, and I have sworn I will again. Would you deny me what is my right?"

"As I have sworn that I will not give into you again, Erik! We are not what we were ten years ago! I love Raoul … but I love you too, not in the same way. You're my teacher, my friend, a father substitute. I'm simply not what you want me to be, Erik! I'm sorry! Truly, I am, but I cannot change the course of my love. You wrote so yourself, in that song."

"And what are you going to do with the boy?" Gustave?

"What reason do you have to ask about my son, you demon?" I snarl.

"Your son? He is still so blind, Christine?" He smirks and I feel a familiar scowl tugging at my lips. _How dare he persist with the ridiculous idea that Gustave is his child!_

"Erik! Please, stop!" She is sobbing now. He's hurting her! I know, in my heart, that I am no better. How much pain must I have caused for both her and Gustave in the past ten years? "If you continue, I won't ever come back! Not even if you were dying! I … I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! I NEVER WANT TO HEAR YOUR FOX'S VOICE, OR RECIEVE ANOTHER LETTER, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" She does something I had not expected. She rises, strides over to Erik, removes his mask, revealing his deformity and strikes him across the face. I had never imagined my wife capable of such a thing, yet the proof is before me as he reels back in horror. Calmly, she turns to me. "Raoul, I want to go home. Let's find Gustave, and get back to Paris. That's where we belong."

* * *

A/N: So, this wraps up my first chapter. I understand if you hate the plot because it involves Christine ditching Erik, but I just couldn't help it! It was one of those things! Please review!


	2. I Kept The Secret Hid

A/N: Welcome each and everyone … aw, shit, I am not, not, NOT going to do Meg's cutesy little 'Ooh-La-La Girl' schtick. It makes me sick, and it's annoyingly catchy like Heaven by the Sea. And what is up with that? Do they honestly think all Americans have npthing better to do than run around with ADHD talking about celebrities, flesh, and food? Hello, we're the home of Thomas Edison! Emily Dickinson! Mark Twain! Eli Whitney! John F. Kennedy! Eleanor Roosevelt! Abraham Lincoln! DO I NEED TO KEEP RANTING? Yes, I realize not all of those people were alive back then, but still! Why the fuck did ALW waste his time being PC with the freaks but let these abominations of excuses for Americans run free on the stage? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE! Okay, I'm done. I realize people might hate me for making this an C/R fic, but you don't know everything. I, too, despise Raoul (See **101 Ways To Make Raoul Cry Like The Pansy He Is**), but I was plagued by AI4WS (Annoying Ideas for Writers Syndrome). My apologies. On to chapter 2.

* * *

_**ERIK**_

'_She chose Raoul, chose his beauty and youth. __It's long past time you faced up to that truth.'_ Antoinette's word echo in my head. I am such a fool. She was right all along. My Christine, my angel, my beloved, wants nothing to do with me, and the same goes for my son. They may loathe me, but I still want them. My face is still burning from the blow Christine dealt me, and my rage increases the pain as I watch the _Atlantic Queen_ sail away … as I watch for a second time while Raoul leaves with everything that should be mine. And, once again, I am left with a tiny silver trinket from her and a shattered dream.

"E-Erik?" Meg whispers. I turn to see her stepping out from the aerie to join me on the balcony.

"I'm not going to hit you. Honestly, if there's anyone to hit, it's me, as Christine made quite clear."

"That's just it. What will you do?"

"A bet is a bet, Meg. I paid him in full and I plan to send monthly increments of my former salary."

"Twenty thousand francs?" She smiles slightly and looks out at the sea that she loves so much. "And … the boy? Is he really going to get everything?"

"No. In light of … recent events, I think it best to leave him only thirty percent of Phantasma's profits. The other seventy is to be split between you and your mother. However, since you've made it quite clear you don't wish to return to France, I'm leaving him all my properties there. No matter what your mother may say, I am not blind, and I do repay my debts," I pause to laugh dryly. "And the debts of others." She joins in with me nervously. "Something else is bothering you. I've apologized for the way I've been acting, haven't I?"

"No, it's about her. I just don't understand how she could …"

"Could what? Deny my son? Deprive me of my right?"

"Break her promise." Meg corrects.

"She seems to have a habit of making me promises, then breaking it and running off with her precious vicomte. And she left me with a pretty little bauble again." I open my palm, revealing Christine's precious silver crucifix.

"Oh!" Meg gasps. We both know how Christine loved it. "She gave it to you?"

"Not directly." I take out a lilac-scented piece of paper. "Read it."

"'_Erik, I know what I've done. I'm sorry, but I just couldn't think clearly with you here. I need to do what is best for all of us, especially Gustave. What is best for our son was clear. He is yours, no one can deny it, but I want him to have an ordinary childhood. I want him to grow up without having to bear the burdens of mistakes I made. Yes, it was my fault. I should have gone after you that night. But, I didn't and we've both had to pay the price for ten years. We shouldn't have to any longer. No one , I will tell him and Raoul the truth, when the time is right. Please, believe me, mon ange._

"'_There is one last thing. I know you have no faith in God, but I've chosen to leave behind Papa's crucifix as a gift and a test. If it is still with you when you have been buried, I have failed you. I will not. Christine."_ I laugh again at the last part. "You don't believe her?"

"What reason do I have to?"

* * *

**_CHRISTINE_**

It's late, and I know Raoul is most likely sleeping, but I need to tell him the truth. I love him, but I'm tired of breaking promises because of him. "Raoul? Are you awake?"

"You can't sleep either, Christine?" He rolls over to face me. I sit up and turn on the gas light on my side of the bed.

"No, Raoul. I need to tell you quite a few things. This is the second time that I've broken a promise ... and Erik's heart because of your love."

"Are you saying you aren't satisfied with your choice?" He sounds hurt, and I immediately regret the way I've worded my speech.

"No! Raoul, please, don't say that. I love you-"

"From what I've heard, you've said similar things to Erik!" He starts to raise his voice. I place a finger to my lips and gesture towards the door.

"Gustave." I remind him. "Raoul, I want this to stop. For the both of us. I know what I've done. I've nearly led you to your death, I've betrayed you, I've lied to you for ten years, but I won't anymore. From tonight on, I won't keep any secrets from you."

"So you admit it."

"Yes. I didn't mean for it to happen. I went to find Erik , so that I could ask for his forgiveness and say goodbye."

"Fine way to get forgiveness."

"Raoul, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do anything other than speak to him. It just happened."

"As long as it was voluntary." Raoul mutters. "If he'd raped you, I'd have killed him the moment I saw him."

"Raoul, just let me finish! I didn't mean to, but Gustave is Erik's son."

"I know."

"You do? How? Who told you?"

"He did. This morning. I'll explain once you've finished your side of the story."

"Well, there isn't much else, Raoul. I've kept the secret, because I was afraid of what you'd do to Gustave if you'd known. Just tell me now if you're going to be cruel to him because of Erik."

Raoul smiles wryly. "Why should I make him pay for the sins which are Erik's?"

"Not amusing, Raoul. Now you tell me."

"This morning, I was in the bar on the pier at Coney Island-"

"Getting drunk?"

"Let me finish!"

"You didn't let me finish. Now we're equal."

"Fine. So, yes, I was drinking and Meg came in."

"What was Meg doing in a bar?"

"She goes to the pier every morning for a swim. Why? I don't know. She claims that she does it to wash away the world's faults. She told me it'd be best if we left. I was cocky. I claimed I could beat Erik, then I turned around, and he was standing there. I was terrified." I know how much that cost him to say. He's been trying to make himself seem fearless for ten years. I don't think he's aware that I know about the loaded pistol he's kept beneath our bed for the past ten years. "In any case, I started bluffing, threatening to kill him. He just laughed and offered to make a bet with me. And you know me, ma cherie." Of course I did. If Raoul could salvage his ego by making a bet, he'd do it, which was exactly what has landed us in debt to begin with.

"How bad was it?"

"Very bad."

"Raoul, you weren't playing poker, were you?" Poker is his Achilles' heel. He simply can't use the poker face effectively.

"It wasn't a card game, Christine. It was a bet on the outcome of tonight's concert. If you'd sung tonight, I'd have lost, and you and Gustave would still be on the island with Erik. Erik promised to repay the debts I've caused us, if you left tonight without singing."

"You won?"

"I won. You love me far more than I deserve. I was certain you were going to sing ... that I was going to lose you, and our son." He sees my face. "I know Gustave is not the son of my body, but he is the son of my heart. I'm quite lucky to have him at all. In any case, I'm shocked that you even came back after seeing Erik."

"That night, I was mainly concerned about our reputations. If I'd run away, you'd have sent the police out to look for me. It would not have looked good if it was discovered I was expecting, and I couldn't support a child on my own." He's silent. I'm so used to our nights being filled with his ranting that the silence is unnerving rather than calming. His behavior is unnerving as well. He seems to have transitioned so smoothly back into _my_ Raoul. The one I fell in love with ten years ago. I might have thought he was acting, but he can't act. "Raoul? Are you still awake?"

"I'm awake, Little Lotte." He says stiffly.

"I hurt you, didn't I? Raoul, I didn't mean to-"

"It doesn't matter. Just tell me the truth. Was I really only a means of funds to you?"

"Of course not. I was heartbroken, I had hopes you could make me forget it all. I wanted, God, help me, I wanted to lie to you, to all of us. Myself, most of all. I wanted to believe it wasn't true about Gustave. Please, believe me."

"Kiss me." He orders coolly.

"What?"

"Kiss me the same way you did when we first did. Perhaps then, I'll believe you." I can't help but smile as I obey his command.

"I want to tell him." I whisper as we pull away.

"Gustave?"

"Who else would I tell? Erik obviously already knows."

"Christine, are you sure that's a good idea? It will shatter his world."

"He shouldn't have to live a lie anymore than we should, Raoul."

"He's a child, Lotte. He's not ready."

"When will he be ready?"

"When I'm dead and he can't hate me for lying."

"Raoul, he could be married with his own son by then. I could be dead by then."

"Shhhh!" He places a finger to his lips. I hadn't realized I'd raised my voice. "You'll wake him. We'll talk about this tomorrow, Christine."

"But, Raoul-"

"Tomorrow."

* * *

_**GUSTAVE**_

They won't. I don't want to talk to Raoul or my mother... if she is my mother. Secrets and lies. Is that all the world is? Is everything beautiful really illusions, artifice, and lies? I plunge into a sleep filled with doubt and worry.

* * *

A/N: Ooopsies! They woke up Gustave. :-(. Well, he's obviously not happy. At least Christine and Raoul cleared the air and made up. Although, I can't say I'm too happy with myself for sending Raoul back into his sweet foppish self. I may just kill myself once I finish Love Without Sight unless I receive reviews telling me you like the story. So, R&R! Cailie out!


	3. Choose Your Hand

**Disclaimer: Hola! I'm back from Mexico, and am now plunged into the greatest evil of mankind: school. However, I'm not going to turn the disclaimer into a rant again. So, LND does not belong to me, etc, Just read the story and please review. Gracias. BTW, this is the only time we will see the story through Meg's eyes.**

* * *

**_MEG_**

I fight back a spasm of coughing. I got out of the factory far too late last night, but it still got me a good amount of cash. "Have you seen?" Mother interrupts my thoughts and places a copy of the _New York Daily News_ on Erik's piano. The headline is only two words: DAAÉ WALKS.

"Don't even bother to read the garbage the press writes, Antoinette. Besides I do not want to hear a single word about them. You should know better." He turns and looks out the window, a scowl on his face. Trying to lighten the mood, I poke at the gorilla organist.

"How does this work?" I ask innocently.

"If you tell the secret, the magic is gone, Meg. You should know that, given how your striptease relies on such things." Erik reminds me.

"True enough." I agree. "Wait ... you watched it?" I knew we'd shared our apologies, but I thought he'd been with Christine during the show.

"I do have to know what to do for our next season. I was quite impressed."

"You didn't see it." I glare at him. You had one of the trio report back to you! Why can't you be honest with me? You wouldn't lie to Christine!" He flinches at her name. All of a sudden, the left side of my head throbs. As I snap backwards, I see a spare hand from the gorilla lying on the floor.

"Never say that again!" Erik's voice is dangerously low and quiet. "You know nothing, Meg. Nothing at all. I have lied to Christine!" With every sentence, his voice rises in both anger and volume. "Do you not recall? DON"T YOU REMEMBER? FOR THREE MONTHS, I LIED TO HER!_ I LET HER BELIEVE I WAS THE ANGEL OF MUSIC!"_

_"_Ha! And what good did it do you?" I snarl. "She loathes you, in case you've forgotten! Because you lied! Because you killed! Because you hid your true emotions!

"Stop it, the both of you!" Mother protests. "You're acting like children!" I'm well aware of that, but my temper has taking priority over my maturity.

"Well, for all that counts, he is a child, always playing with his precious little doll!" I jab a finger at the case containing the automaton of Christine.

"What child has a ten year old son?" He smirks as if playing a trump card.

"PLEASE! She just said that because she pitied you!"

"MEG!" Both Mother and Erik yell at me this time.

"Fine!" I snap. "I can see this won't turn in my favor, so I'm done! Good luck finding a new star for your precious next season!" Knowing nowhere else to go, I head for the pier. I need a swim.

* * *

**_GUSTAVE_**

"Gustave? Darling?" I can hear Christine calling to me, but I refuse to talk to her. Instead, I continue rifling through my smallest bag . "Papa and I are going to the deck, sweetheart. Feel free to join us when you feel better."

"Ah!" I say, disguising it as a groan, but really, I'm just glad to have found my blank sheet music.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone. Get some sleep. I'd hate for you to spend the entire voyage in bed."

"Mmmmmmm." I mumble. When she's gone, I start scribbling the flurry of note in my mind onto the page. I do so without thinking. My mind is thousands of miles away. Erik... who is Erik? Why was Meg so upset about Christine? Why does Madame Giry hate me so much? Why did Mr. Y stare at me as if I were something he wanted, but couldn't have? What made his face the way it is? Why did my real father leave Christine? Why didn't she tell me? Who am I, really?

* * *

_**RAOUL**_

He's been in his room all day now, and the door is locked. I'm beginning to believe that he isn't really ill at all. "Well?" I ask Christine. "What do we do?"

"Nothing. He'll come out when he's done. It may be a long time though. Don't worry though. Music is sustenance to him. He is his father's son." Christine says, wrapping a dressing gown over her chemise. "Leave him be, darling. " She sets up a game of solitaire, and glances out the window. "It's twilight, dear. I remember that night. Do you?"

"If I remember correctly, you were half-mad with fright, and I had to kiss you to calm you down."

"That is not true!" She laughs. "You had to kiss me because I'd been driving _you_ half-mad with love since I'd sung at the gala!" Suddenly her hand freezes at the sight of the card she's holding. The queen of hearts slips down and lands on top of the king of clubs. Her eyes gaze out to a place only she can see. No ... I know _he _could see it, too. Damn it. Will I never be free of that monster?

"What was it like?" I ask abruptly. She shivers and blinks.

"What?"

"That night-"

"Raoul!"

"I'm sorry ... it's just ..." Can I honestly say that I want her to compare Erik's lovemaking to mine? Or is it I'm simply jealous that Erik has given her yet another joy I have not?

"Oh, my poor, sweet husband." She smiles softly. "Raoul ... what can I say about such a thing without hurting you?" Must she always be so selfless?

"Just tell me."

"It ... It was life-changing. I have no other words for it, because it altered me in two very intense ways."

"Gustave." I guess.

"Yes, Gustave was one of the two reasons. The other was the way I saw Erik that night." She locks eyes with me. "He was so gentle. Kind. Pure. Whole. He reminded me of you." Then she giggles. "Raoul, you're blushing!"

"I just never thought I might be compared to him. It seems rather ludicrous."

"I suppose so... will you play me?" She pockets the cards and reaches into a chest for the chess board.

"As you wish." I say simply. We play silently for several minutes untiil she makes the first capture, the victim being one of my pawns. "Damn!" I mutter.

"It's only a pawn, Raoul."

"Pawns can be made queens, my dear. Just as surely as a chorus girl can be made a diva." I counter.

"But only with the proper master." She whispers.

"Damn. I didn't mean to ... "

"It's fine. Just remember: There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I love you."

"I know." We pass the remainder of the game in relative silence. However, just as we are about to go to bed, I whisper in her ear, "Christine? Will you join me tonight? There's something I want to give you, but you have to accept first."

She lookss up into my eyes and speaks so softly I can barely hear the single word: "Yes."

* * *

**A/N: Make of the ending what you will. I have a report to finish, so it maybe some time before I update again. Adios!**


	4. I Want The Truth Right Now

Gustave: Ooooooooh (His Devil Take The Hindmost tune).

Me: Please, Gustave, if you don't mind, would you wait outside awhile?

Gustave: You are absolutely no fun, Mademoiselle Cailie.

Me: My name's Caelia now, remember? From the Latin word for 'heavenly?' Look, just wait while I get the chapter up, then I'll teach you to swim.

Gustave: Really?

Me: I keep my promises, Gustave.

Gustave: Hooray! Swimming! Swimming! Swimming!

Me: That's enough, _ma fraer_. Unfortunately, this little cutie doesn't belong to me, nor do any of the other LND characters.

Gustave: Swimming! Swimming! Swimming!

Me: Okay, chapter's going up, and Gustave and I are going swimming before it gets too cold in 'New York.' Review, please.

Gustave: Swimming! Swimming! Swimming!

Me: Good grief.

* * *

**_CHRISTINE_**

"Gustave? Darling, are you done?" His violin lets out out a shriek. High G above C. Good heavens, he's been experimenting. "I suppose not. Well, finish soon. We dock tomorrow, and I don't want to leave you in there much longer. Besides, your father—"

"You mean Raoul, yes, Christine? _Erik_ isn't here." _No. No. How?_ How does he know?

"What are you talking about? And why are you calling me by my first name?"

"If Raoul is not Papa, how can I know Christine is Maman?"

"Gustave, motherhood isn't something that can be questioned. And—"

"It doesn't really matter. Either way, you still lied. You're ashamed of me."

"No! I'm not!"

"Yes, you are."

"Gustave, please. This is getting nowhere. Let me in." The door clicks open, for only a moment, and I slip in. Gustave locks it before I can say a single word and returns to his chair. Then I get the full impression of his room and I have to stop myself from bursting into tears.

Gustave's sheet music has been scattered across the room in a papery blanket. The sconces on the wall are dimly lit, and the curtains are drawn. His violin lies on the desk next to the music box Fleck, Gangle, and Squelch gave him, which is wound to play _his_ melody. To make matters worse, Gustave is looking at me with longing and coldness. Erik! It all is Erik! Why does my son have to keep growing into his father? Where am I in him, besides his features? Why is it my fate to look at my own child and see only my sins and those I've caused hurt?

"Speak," he says coldly. "Tell me everything. I want the truth, right now."

"I never wanted to lie to you, Gustave."

"Spare me," he hisses. Another time, I might have slapped him for acting so rudely, but his behavior towards me is deserved.

" You say you want the truth, so you get the the truth!" I stop for a moment before I do one more thing I'll only regret. "I am not ashamed of you, Gustave, but of the actions that led to your birth."

He looks at me without glaring. "What happened, Mother? When?" _Best I tell him everything now._

"It began years ago ... in the Opera Populaire. I was sixteen years old and a ballerina in the chorus. Meg was my best friend...really more of a sister... annd her mother was ballet mistress... and your father was giving me voice lessons..." I continue to speak, but my memory races away, back to that strange chain of events that so altered my destiny.

When I finish, Gustave whispers to me. "Maman? Why are you crying? Please don't..." He hands me a handkerchief, and I see his brow wrinkle as I begin to shake from laughter. "Maman, what is so funny?"

"You might not believe this, darling, but until now, I never realized just how much of an idiot I was ... I suppose still am one ... and a weak one at that."

"Weak idiots are nothing. It's the strong ones that we have to worry about. They're the ones who can't learn to act wisely... like the two naked people I saw backstage." Gustave muses.

"Two what?"

"Well, I think it was one of Mam'selle Meg's chorus girls and a stage hand ... he was on top of her, and she was cooing some sort of nonsense ... I saw his bottom, and I think that it was absolutely repulsive. I hope Father fires them."

"Father?" I repeat, completely dumbfounded.

"Well, yes. Perhaps I can simply refer to Erik as Father and Raoul as Papa. That makes it simple, yes?" He smiles sweetly at me. "Can we eat, Maman? I feel famished."

* * *

**_GUSTAVE_**

I'm so glad my family will stay together. To be truthful, I hated hating them. "Papa! Maman! Look! I can see France!" I yell, pointing towards the pier. "But Cherbourg looks awfully bright, or the pier does anyway."

"Oh, no," Maman's face pales. "Raoul, it's the press. I've a feeling they're all here for me."

"Blast it!" Papa grits his teeth. "How did they find us?"

Maman shrugs and purses her lips. "It's a pity we don't have masks, like Father," I murmur.

"What?" Papa turns to me. "Say that again, Gustave."

"It's a pity we don't have masks."

"Masks," Papa repeats, smiling slowly.

"Masquerade, paper face on parade..." Maman sings softly. "Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you."

"Of course! We can get off in disguise!" Papa grins widely. "You're a little genius, Gustave!"

"And I have just the clothes!" Maman smiles mischievously, and starts running towards our suite. "Follow me!"

"Christine, not so fast!" Father laughs, running after her, and pulling me along.

"What a rush! It makes me feel so nostalgic!" Maman hums the tune she was singing a few moments before. She spins giddily and latches open a trunk. She pulls out three shabby coats, a box of cosmetics, and two dusty caps. "I haven't done this since I was in the chorus of...oh, goodness, I can't even remember. It was probably more than fifteen years ago. Sit down, Gustave. Raoul, can you just put on a coat and a hat?"

"All right?" Papa wrinkles his brow so that his agreement sounds like a question. Maman spends what seems an eternity smearing unidentifiable substances on my face and mussing my hair. Once she's done with me, she does the same to herself, and removes almost all her jewelry.

"There," She smiles, pulling on her new, or rather, old coat. "How do I look?"

"Filthy," Papa remarks. "Filthy, but absolutely beautiful."

"Mmmmm," Maman leans and kisses him until it becomes nauseating. Somehow I don't think it would be so revolting as it would have been if Maman were kissing Father.

"Please stop, or we won't be able to get off the boat!" I tug at Maman's coat urgently.

"He's right, Raoul," Maman pulls away. "Let's go!" We all join hands, Papa and Maman swinging me between them, just like when I was little. Once again, I miss the days before we went to America. We slip easily into the crowd and sneak towards the carriage. All around us, people are calling, "Daae! Daae! Christine! Madame!"

"D'you think that's her?" Papa asks in the drawl of an American, pointing at a handsome woman leaving the ship.

"Naw, that couldn't be her, Pa. Di'n't choo hear? Christine Daae's s'posed t' be the best lookin' lady in the world." I reply. Maman giggles at the sound of us talking, as we sneak around to the back of our coach. Papa flashes his ring with the family crest at Jean-Armand, our driver.

"Allez!" Armand laughs, and we take off.

* * *

**_CHRISTINE_**

"Oh, goodness, now I feel guilty!" I laugh, pulling my hair loose from its messy bun. "Suppose someone loses their job because they couldn't interview me?"

"It'll be fine, Maman." Gustave giggles, liberating his own hair from both cap and cosmetics. "They'll probably just spin out some amount of lies and call it an exclusive piece."

"Since when did my sweet young son become such a cynic?" Raoul chuckles, doling out a game of solitaire.

"Since he caught two Phantasma employees in the act of lovemaking." I reply discretely.

"Ah." Raoul nods, the faint crinkles of a smile forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Lovemaking?" Gustave asks.

"The two people backstage." I say.

"Ohhhhhh. What's a masquerade?"

"A party," Raoul says, "but everyone is wearing disguises and masks. It was really quite a sensation. I was always disappointed when they went out of style."

"Mmmm," I nod with a smile. "Do you remember my Philomela costume? That was one of my favorites! Oh, but the best were the ones where the women dressed as men and the men as women? You were an exceptionally lovely woman, weren't you, Raoul?"  
"And you a charmingly handsome man, my love." Raoul answers, kissing me again. Out of the corner of my eye I see Gustave pantomime vomiting.

"In media res ... vini, vidi, vici ..." he mutters, pulling out his pocket book of Latin translations and starts scribbling down translations.

"Sanctus Dominus deus sabaoth! Hosanna, hosanna in excelsis!" I sing part of the Sanctus from my father's requiem mass all those years ago.

"Maman, what was that?"

"I'm just trying to show a little solidarity, sweetling."

"I don't believe Caesar ever composed a requiem mass, Maman. He was a pagan worshipper."

"Precocious rascal!" Raoul tousles Gustave's hair. "That's our boy!"

_Erik's, too_, I add silently.

* * *

Thoughts? Review, please. Thank you.

Latin translations:  
In media res: in the middle of things

Vini, vidi, vici: I came, i saw, I conquered.

Sanctus dominus deus sabaoth, Hosanna in excelcis: Holy lord god our host, hosanna in the highest.

Yeah, we're doing a requiem in my choir, so Latin's kind of on my mind.


	5. We'll Spend Some Time, Just Us Two

Me: Once again.

Gustave: Must I?

Me: As a gift for me?

Gustave: Fine. (He plays out Beautiful)

Me: You really are a lovely composer.

Gustave: Thank you. Now, may I go?

Me: Oh, very well. Can you play it just once more?

Gustave: Can you put your chapter up and leave me be?

Me: Not likely. You're like the little brother I never had.

Gustave: You have two brothers.

Me: Yes, but I don't like them. They're not cute, sweet, musical, or in any way fun!

Gustave: You flatter me. I do wish I had an older sister. Your voice is almost as lovely as my mother's.

Me: Awwwwww, Gustave! _(GLOMPING BEYOND BELIEF ENSUES)_

Gustave: Owwwww.

Me: Ooops! Sorry.

_

* * *

_

**ERIK**

When I come into the aerie, the smell of burnt paper is unmistakable. Antoinette is scowling into the fireplace. "What are you burning?" I ask suspiciously.

"Another letter from Meg's lovesick worshippers. Why should it matter to you?" She hisses. _Because some irrational, lovesick part of my mind believes that Christine will write to me, telling me that I am the only love she has, and that she wants to return to me. Because I am an utter fool who dreams of the family he has, but wants nothing to do with him._ But I cannot say that, for Antoinette will only counter with harsh reprimands, reminding me of what cannot be. At the same time, faces of the past infiltrate my mind...those who were part of my life and came to grief because of it: _Mother...Sasha... Javert, the devil...Giovanni...Luciana...Nadir...Christine...Meg..._

"I thought Meg might have written." I lie smoothly.

"Ha!" She scoffs. "I know what you really want, Erik. You forget how well I know you." She starts to walk towards me.

"Not another step."

"You need to hear it from someone, it may as well be me-"

"Not another word!" I hiss.

"She loathes you! He fears you! Both left you! You have nothing left, Erik, except me!"

"ENOUGH!" I roar, tempted beyond belief to throw my lasso around Antoinette's repulsive neck. "If you feel thus, perhaps you should have left with your daughter! But now, leave me be!"

"Fine!" She yells back, leaving the aerie with a huff.

"Ayesha, come from the shadows, your master needs you, and now," I sing gently, to the tune I taught Christine to call me with*, "show me what love you can give me, lady, show me how." My precious little lady appears, mewling softly. "There you are, my sweet. You alone love me purely, don't you?" I whisper.

"We care about you, sir." Fleck murmurs.

"You've become as stealthy as I, my dear friend."

"You were the first to show us true kindness." Gangle remarks, emerging with Squelch.

"Aye. Because of you, we are cheered by the crowd, not jeered by the crowd." Squelch agrees.

"Very comical." I mutter dejectedly.

"Sir, that letter Madame Giry was burning wasn't for Meg." Fleck reveals.

"So I'd guessed."

"Did you guess it was from young master Gustave? And addressed to Mister E. Y?" Gangle asks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Mystery ... why?" I repeat, with a smile. "She told him my name, and he guessed the rest. Clever, sweet boy. So like his mother."

"And father, sir." Fleck adds.

"Dark as a raven, soft as a dove, little Fleck." Squelch teases his surrogate sister.

"Brother dear, if they ever knew your true nature, you'd be playing with the pussycat." Gangle retorts in defense of Fleck.

"And you my organist, good doctor." I laugh, joining in their jests. "Would it be best to write back to him?" I wonder aloud.

No, I think it would be better to wait. If you don't know what the letter said, you might bring up a subject that makes him feel uncomfortable."

"You're probably right, Squelch... and would you three mind keeping an eye on _la madame_? She's begun to worry me."

"As you wish." Gangle says, speaking for the trio and the three fade into the shadows once more.

* * *

**_GUSTAVE_**

"Goodbye, Raoul." Maman kisses Papa, as he heads out for work at the new steel company he's purchased.

"Goodbye, dear. Tonight's that meeting with the British ship-makers, White Star Line, so I'll be back tomorrow morning. You may want to take advantage of the time with Gustave." He winks at me. "Watch out for your mother today, mon trésor. You're the man of the house while I'm gone."

"All right, Papa." I say, standing on tiptoe to hug him. "Goodbye!" Once Papa's left, Maman looks down at me and smiles.

"Madame Vilette?" She calls, and my grotesquely old, fat, and falsely cheerful governess emerges for the nursery.

"_Oui_, Madame de Chagny?"

"You may have the day off today. It's my intention to take my son to Paris." _Paris!_

"Oh, really, Maman?" I gasp eagerly.

"Really and truely, mon petit. We will see everything and anything we can." Maman says.

"I love you!" I cheer, my head whirling with excitement.

"I should have taken you there sooner then," Maman giggles. "Get your coat and we'll be on our way." I am walking on air, as I do what I'm told to, and rush back out to the carriage.

"Will we be able to go to the Opera House, Maman?" I ask eagerly as the carriage starts to move.

"I don't think so, Gustave." Maman says, pursing her lips.

"Why not?"

"It...it just isn't possible. No one but Erik knows how to navigate the labyrinth."

"But, Maman..."

"No, Gustave." Maman turns pale, and gasps. "Armand, stop the carriage! Now!" He does and Maman flings herself out onto the ground and proceeds to vomit all of her breakfast onto the ground.

"Maman! Maman, are you all right?"

"Doc...tor..." Maman gasps.

"Armand, get us to the closest doctor!" I yell, helping Maman back into the carriage.

**_

* * *

_**

_**CHRISTINE**_

"Come on, Maman." Gustave passes me through a door. "The doctor's in here. I'll come in when I'm called." I hear the door close and then a gasp.

"Madeleine?" _Madeleine..._Why does that name stir something within me? A faint memory flickers through my mind, then vanishes.

"_Mais non, Monsieur le docteur. Je m'apelle Christine, le vicomtesse de Chagny."_

_"_Daaé?" He asks.

"Daaé was my maiden name, yes," I nod.

"My God...then the boy with you ... I'm not losing my mind ... it was him. It was Erik."

_Erik! _"You know Erik?"

"I had the misfortune to know the little madman when I was younger." The man shudders, and I feel a small part of my heart twinge defensively.

"Do not insult my son's father." I said slowly. "I have no tolerance for such words."

The doctor draws back, repulsed. "You stayed with that ..."

"Did you not hear me?" I demanded. "Do not speak ill of Erik! If you are that ... concerned ... for me, rest assured, monsieur, I'm currently the wife of the vicomte de Chagny."

"Ah. I see," the doctor nods. "Forgive my hostility, Madame. My name is Etienne Barye. Now then, let's discuss your symptoms."

* * *

**_GUSTAVE_**

Maman's been in there for so long, I'm beginning to get fairly bored, so I take out my pocketknife, and start carving out two images into a wooden tabletop. One is a memory, the gorilla organist in Father's workshop, but I know the other only from dreams: a musical barrel organ, with a little Persian monkey playing cymbals. It seems so familiar, yet unknown. I drum out the rhythm of the tune Maman sang right before we'd left the _Atlantic Queen_, and think of my letter to Father. Has it reached him yet? Does he know I want to apologize and try to be friends with him at the very least? A new melody forms in my head unbidden, one with words.

"Look at me, and tell me who I am. Why I am what I am. Call me a fool, and it's true I am. I don't know who I am. It's such a shame, I'm such a sham. No one knows who I am. Am I the face of the future? Am I the face of the past? Am I the one who must finish last? Look at me, and tell me who I am. Why I am what I am. Will I survive? Who will give a damn, if no one knows who I am? Nobody knows, not even you. No one knows who I am..."

"Gustave." Maman walks out, escorted by the old doctor. "Come along, darling, or we'll never get to Paris on time."

"We're still going?"

"Of course. We'll need to make a detour to the cemetery where your grandfather was buried, however."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

* * *

A/N: So, I hope it's clear that I'm blending in bits and pieces of Susan Kay's _Phantom _into the story now. What kind of Phanatic would I be if I didn't? See you next chapter!

*If you can guess the tune, there's a spot for you alongside two of your favorite POTO/RENT characters waiting in the next installment of 'When Epic Musical Characters Meet.' First come, first served, so figure out quickly!


	6. To See One's Own Child

A/N: Wow, it feels though I haven't updated for-

Ramin Karimloo: TEN LONG YEARS-

Me: Thank you, Ramin. So yeah, it's been a while. And I've gotten behind. Please, feel free to punish me.

Lila: With pleasure.

Me: Oh, no! Absolutely not! You are not going to ruin another set of disclaimers! I forbid it!

Lila: You have no power over me.

Me: Are you quoting _Labyrinth_, or referring to the last sleepover we were at?

Lila: Does it matter?

Ramin: Can I leave now?

Lila: No! Glompage! (Glomps Ramin).

Me: You've really started to enjoy The Room, haven't you?

Lila: Almost as much as The Phantom Interviews Chamber.

Me: Well, I'm returning him. (Ramin disappears).

Lila: Hey, I wasn't done!

Me: Oh, yes, you were!

Lila: Grrrrr.

Me: FYI, the main reason Ramin was here was for a bit of a gag in the first Christine section. If you're a true Phan, you know Ramin Karimloo played Christine's father in the 2004 movie. (mumble) He deserved better. And in the Susan Kay Novel, and the 1990 TV series, Christine looks like Erik's mother...so...yeah. It's called irony. Which also explains the use of _Mélodie de Paris_ from the Yeston and Kopit version, which was the original form of the 1990 series. Oh, and I've started roleplaying on Facebook, and there are so many Erik Destlers, I just had to use a new one. So, why not use Carriere? And I lied about Chapter 3 being the only Meg POV chapter. And no, Erik never slept with any rand … Never mind. The story's more important than my explanations.

Lila: Both of which suck and are of little importance.

Me: AS OPPOSED TO YOU GLOMPING A **MARRIED** MAN WHO'S MORE THAN TWICE YOUR AGE? _**GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!**_

_**

* * *

CHRISTINE**_

_ Is it possible? _Raoul's child...within me? I have dreamed of something like this for so long, it almost seems impossible. And yet...somehow...it feels so different from when I realized I was carrying Erik's child. Colder...less filled with love...

"Maman?" Gustave interrupts. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, _ma_ _petit_," I say quickly.

"Well, we're here, so, shall we?" I glance out and see that he's right. The last of the autumn leaves are coating the roofs of crypts, frost just starting to create a thin glaze over angels and headstones.

"This way," I tell him, as I pull my coat tighter around my body. _Father. Papa. Oh, how I have missed you._ I hear the crinkle of paper as Gustave hops out after me. "What were you working on?"

"Just a little something. Words, not music," he replies vaguely. I am tempted to press him for more details, but I decide against it. Ahead, I see the form of Father's crypt appearing. "Grandfather was very wealthy, wasn't he, Maman?" Gustave asked, his eyes widening in delight at the marble tomb. "This is a beautiful sepulcher."

"No, Gustave. He was not very wealthy. Most of what he'd saved was spent on this, or my upbringing."

"But I thought he was famous," Gustave said, wrinkling his brow in confusion.

"Many artists are not wealthy _and_ famous. Beethoven boarded with other people-"

"Because he was restless," Gustave cuts me off.

"Well, your grandfather was famous for his soulful playing, not his compositions. And it is much easier to produce soulful sounds from a violin than a voice. Violins of good quality are far less challenging to produce than a voice of good quality," I murmur. Gustave looks at me sadly for a moment, then runs up the steps to the mausoleum.

"Oh!"

"What is it, darling?"

"Grandfather… he looks like Father." Gustave looks at me, with a sheepish smile. _Oh, the irony_. As I look at Papa's cameo, I do see the similarities between him and Erik. And, to think, he'd once showed me a portrait of his mother… that I looked so very like Madeleine…

"What is it?"

"Nothing, darling. Just memories."

_**

* * *

ERIK**_

"No! Please!" I do not know the voice, but I know the accent. Romany. Gypsies.

"Mama!" A little voice wails out. A girl, perhaps nine years of age.

"Get out of my way, WOP!" A man orders.

"_No! Give me back Sorina_!" The woman cries out in Romany.

"Mama!" The little girl sobs again.

Antoinette looks up from the papers she is examining. "Ignore it, Erik. The immigrant trash are not worth bothering with." She seems to have forgotten that we were once the same immigrant trash. I have no love for gypsies, but even they deserve to stay with their mothers. I stand up, and stride out of the admissions office. "Erik!"

"Is there a problem, officer?" I demand, taking in the scene. The little girl is slender, perhaps as tall as my hip, and every inch an exotic beauty in the making, with dusky skin, and raven hair. As she raises her eyes to look at me, I am struck by their exquisiteness. I have never seen such eyes, midnight blue and flecked with silver, like a starry sky, on a gypsy. The mother is considerably less handsome, with sun-darkened wrinkled skin, and a bent back...and somehow familiar. The police man turns to look at me.

"Who're you?"

"Tell me why these two are struggling so."

"The woman tried to get through without a passport. Pushed this one and another one just like her through the turnstiles."

"Where is the other girl?" I ask.

"_Stela went to the big music house Mama wanted us to sing in,_" The little girl says in Romany. "_We have not found her_."

"No trace of her yet. She took off towards the Metropolitan Opera when the customs officer first caught them," the officer says.

"There has been a mistake, sir. The girls are mine." The woman looks up at me in amazement.

"They are?" He asks.

"Yes. Sordid state of affairs, really. Little tryst in France, a while back," I lie casually. "I received a letter recently, telling me about the girls, and asking me to take full custody. The gypsies don't tolerate half-breeds, you see." The officer raises an eyebrow.

"I'll need some form of identification, Mr….?"

"Carriere," I say, using my true surname for the first time in a very long time. "Charles Erik Carriere." I _did_ use my father's name, when the Girys were taking me through customs, ten years ago. "I work for Mr. Y, as a master mason."

"I see. I'm afraid you'll have to take the mask off, Mr. Carriere. We can't hand off children to strangers."

"If you need any confirmation, ask the woman if she remembers Javert's prize." I tell him defiantly. "_Javert's prize. The one everyone thought rode a dragon, and was apprenticed to the Devil._" I add in Romany.

"Erik!" The woman gasps out.

"_I am truly sorry for everything,_" I murmur. "_I cannot help __**you**__, madame, but I promise you, I will do everything I can to help your daughters. If you want what is best for them, leave them here."_

_ "But then I will never see them again!"_

_ "You will not see them either way. Children of illegal immigrants are sent to the orphanages, snatched up by rapists and spoiled rich folk in want of servants. But I will raise them in comfort, and safety."_

_ "And no harm will come to them?"_

_ "I swear on the souls of my parents. May they, and I, burn in hell if your daughters suffer at my hand."_

_ "Take them." _She passes the girl to me. "_Sorina, this is Erik. He will take care of you now."_

_ "What about you, Mama?"_ Sorina asks, staring up at her mother.

_"Mama must go back. Erik will watch over you and Stela until Mama can come find you again."_

_ "You will come back?"_

_ "As soon as I can, my darling."_

The woman embraces her daughter and nods to the officer, who nods to me. "Sorry about that, Mr. Carriere. I'll let headquarters know about the other little girl and send her here. Goodbye, now." Sorina clings tightly to me as her mother is taken into the police wagon.

"Come along, little one," I say, pulling her towards the office. "You will have to learn English or French if you are to speak with Madame Giry or anyone else." Sorina only looks up at me in wonder. "Do you know any language besides Romany?" She blinks dumbly. "Pity. The quality of gypsy education seems to have decreased since I lived among them. Or perhaps, you are too young to have started learning. _Your age?"_

"_Nine years, sir,"_ she whispers, her lips trembling.

_"Erik, little one. Erik, not sir._"

_"Will they hurt my mama?"_

_ "I don't know. I don't think so."_

_ "Why couldn't she stay?"_

_ "She is not from here. They think you are my girl, so you are allowed to stay."_

_ "But I'm not your girl. Do you have a girl of your own?"_

_ "No. But I have a little boy, a year older than you."_

_ "Where is he?"_

_ "With his mother, and her husband."_

_ "Why?"_

_ "Because I was a fool, and let her get away from me. Please do not ask me about her further."_

_ "Yes, Erik."_

"Yes," I say in English. "_That is how you say it in English._"

"Yes." She repeats slowly, a smile creasing her features, and she giggles. "_English sounds funny."_

"_Parley-tu français?_" I ask her suddenly. She shakes her head.

"_¿Habla español?_" She asks me timidly.

"_U-un poco, señorita,_" I stammer. I have not used Spanish since I was composing _Don Juan Triumphant. _"_Es como la français._"

"_¿Verdad?_" Her eyes light up.

"Yes. _I will teach you French and English. Good?_ "

"Yes!" She laughs in delight. If she intends to be this happy every time she learns a new word, she will be unbearable.

_**

* * *

GUSTAVE**_

Maman is pregnant. I'm going to have a sibling…

_"Papa, I brought Gustave. You haven't seen him since he was a baby. He's grown up nicely, hasn't he?" Maman asks. I look at the simple stone coffin engraved with a violin, and wonder what my __grandfather looks like now. I shudder slightly to think that he probably resembles Father more than ever now. "And in a few months, I'll be bringing another of my children to see you, Papa. I'm still considering a name. Or do you think...yes, I think Gustave should choose."_

I glance up again at Maman from my lyric-writing and name contemplation. "We're almost there, Gustave, look!" She smiles. Paris… The most romantic city of the world is so close. The place where my parents met… Where everything began… "I've got a surprise for you, once we've visited the Louvre, Notre Dame, and lunch on the Seine."

I am about to ask what it is, but I know what Maman will say, so I change the subject. "Do you know any songs about Paris, Maman?"

"Well, there is one…_ La Mélodie de Paris_…" Maman starts humming then moves to singing. When I get the basic flow of the song's chorus, I join in.

"Melody melody, melody melody, sung so melodiously. Melody melody, my kind of melody, Gentle and flowing a free. Souring above every rooftop, Whispering under each tree, Melody melody, my melody de Paris. Paris is the rain, Paris is the pain of a lover's goodbye, It's the stare When your eye meets a stranger, Ever dangerous, Paris. Paris, if there's one perfect place I must be, it can only be here in Paris!Paris is a fool. Paris is a _boulangerie_. On the square It's the air over fields called "Elysian," ah, Parisian air. Paris is _l'amour_. Paris is _donsoule_, For their's one place for me, It is only in a sea of Paris. Melody melody, melody melody. Sung so melodiously. Melody melody, My kind of melody, Gentle and flowing and free. Souring above every rooftop, Whispering under each tree. Melody melody, my melody de pa.… Melody melody, My me-lodie de Pa-rie.… De Paris… De Paris..."

When we finish, Maman laughs. "A friend of your grandfather wrote that one. Old Professor Valerius. Always dreaming about Paris. He'd tell me and Papa such lovely stories about the cities, how the angels of the Opera Populaire would come to life and sing songs of protection over the city at night, while nymphs harmonized on the banks of the Seine, and the gargoyles of the cathedrals would keep rhythm with their tails!" Her eyes sparkle with memories. I really loathe when adults take those 'little trips down memory lane.' I hate not knowing things in general.

"You sound so much like Erik." _Damn._ I hadn't meant to speak aloud. "He wanted to know everything. He was studying several languages, physics, electricity, and the history of Asia in its original languages when I first met him."

"Did you learn anything, Maman?" I ask.

"Well … thanks to Erik, I know how to curse in Punjabi, Japanese, Romany, and Latin. I'm lucky to have not used any of those terms in the presence of natives," Maman blushes scarlet. "We're...uh...the Louvre is...right there..we should get going…"

"Are mood swings and being flustered just part of being pregnant?" I mutter. I make a note to get out a medical almanac from the family library. Madame Villette has always avoided mentioning 'the gentle sex,' because of my 'tender age,' but if I disguise it as a tome of Latin on Caesar's Gallic Wars, she won't know.

"Don't even think about it, Gustave," Maman warns. "I see that look on your face, and I know what you're planning. I believe it may be best to omit the Venus de Milo from the visit."

"What? But, Maman! It's a magnificent piece of Classical statuary! I have to see it!"

"If you want to see Classical statuary, you can see the Winged Victory of Samothrace. But you are not going to see the almost completely nude figure of a woman!"

_**

* * *

MEG**_

"I will come back, Tom," I say, as he escorts me out. "Just like I have since September."

"And I'll keep telling you no, and asking you out to dinner, Meg," Thomas Winterfield smiles.

"Career before romance, Tom," I smile back. "I said that as the Ooh-La-La Girl, I'll say it now."

"As an unemployed dancer? Be serious, Meg!" He wraps an arm around me. "Come on, just one outing. I can put in a good word for you."

Easy there, _roué_," I push him off. "You're not going to turn me into one of those women who relies on their lovers to further their careers."

"So, be one of those women who relies on their husbands for help," Thomas says.

"Thomas, are you serious?"

"As a heart attack," he replies, blushing.

"You're proposing to a woman from the most sensual, romantic country in the world, whose trade is one of the most erotic ever created, and this is all? No getting down on one knee, no ring, no saying you'll love me forever?" Thomas' face looks hot enough to melt the ice coating the streets.

"Aw, Meg…"

"And to think, I've had proposals from corporate presidents, and inventors, and…"

"Come on, stop faking, we both know you're nuts about me," he teases, trying to kiss me.

"Thomas…" He has me at a loss for words.

"Look, you don't have to answer me right now. After all, you know where to find me," He heads back into the Met. "I'll see you tomorrow."

My head spinning, I start towards the little apartment I rented on the West side, but stop, hearing a soft wail.

"Mama! Sorina! Mama!" A little girl is screaming.

"Stop your whining, brat!" I turn into an alleyway, and see three men, college students, by the look of it, taunting a little dark-haired girl. "Don't you want to play with us?" She screams something at them in a semi-familiar language..._Romany_. That's it! I've heard Erik cursing in the same tongue when he's annoyed with one of his machines.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to pick on people who are smaller than you?" I demand, stepping between the one teasing her and the little girl. The two flanking him look me up and down. Perverts. "Let the poor child go. She's obviously not interested in your company."

"Care to make a trade, then, my pretty?" The man leers at me.

"If you want me to perform, you have to make a booking," I retort. "The Ooh-La-La Girl doesn't perform for just anyone on the streets, you know."

"Ooh-La-La, indeed," one of the flunkies says. "I saw you last summer. Quite the dancer."

"Always glad to meet fans," I simper, backing away slowly, pulling the little girl with me.

"Where do you think you're taking our new toy, Miss Giry?"

"I thought we just clarified that you are _not_ going to play with her," I snap.

"Who's to stop us from playing with both of you?"

"I can stop you," I reply. _Meg, you idiot! _As they advance towards me, I snap up my left leg in a kick, striking the leader in the chest. I hear my skirt tear, but disregard it. He tumbles back and the other two whip out pistols. "Run, little one." She only looks at me in wonder. "Can you fight?" Nothing. "Do you understand me?" She shakes her head.

"_Stela_!"

"Meg!" _Erik_? I whirl to see him standing in the alley, Mother and a child identical to the one I'm protecting standing behind him.

"_Sorina_!" The girl behind me, Stela, I presume, scrambles toward her twin. The two of them hold tightly to each other as the men turn their guns on Erik.

"Meg, get behind me," Erik orders, staring angrily at the men. "Cover the girls' eyes until I tell you to stop."

"Erik, you aren't thinking…" Does he intend to take off his mask?

"Do as I say!" I recognize the tone of voice he's using, and wrap my body around the two girls. Erik slowly pulls away the white porcelain covering the half of his face that has been dead since his birth. The thugs gasp. "What? Two tough men like you are scared of a ghost?" He laughs.

"Oh, my God!" One of them yelps like a wounded dog and fires. Erik easily dodges it, but Mother is not so lucky.

"Meg, help!" She yelps, staggering backwards.

"Maman!" I scream.

"Meg, remember what I told you! The trio will see to her!" Erik yells, whipping a Punjab lasso around the neck of the one who fired the shot. "But the twins must not see me like this!" I see three dark shapes sweep over my mother, and pull the girls closer to my body.

"Erik…" One of them whimpers. "Mama…" The other one speaks in Romany to her, and she replies in the same tongue. I find it both annoying and comforting to focus on them rather than the sounds of the battle. I wish they were speaking a language I knew. Anything to distract me. _Oh, Erik. Oh, Thomas. Oh, Mother. What has become of us?_

* * *

A/N: Plot device? Maybe, but I think it could lead to some interesting developments. And the song contest is still on from the last chapter. It's a POTO song, if you need a little hint.


	7. Not With Your Eyes

_**ERIK**_

"¿_Quién es ella_?" I stop my pacing to look at Sorina. Her dark eyes are gazing in rapt wonder at the automaton of Christine. "¿_Está durmiendo_?"

"No, Sorina."

"¿_Quién es_?" Stela asks. After only a few hours with the twins, I can tell she is the more forceful of the two.

"Christine Daaé." Before they can question me further, Meg bursts through the door, sobbing. "Is she…." She nods. "Meg, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Erik… I just… can't believe it… Thank God I'll be out of here for a while."

"What?"

"Well… I thought about it…. Do you remember Thomas Winterfield?"

"That whelp from the Metropolitan Opera who nearly got Christine to sign a contract with Hammerstein?"

"Must you always be so judgmental?"

"Meg, why did you bring him up? Answer me!"

She takes a big breath, as if worrying she's going to shock me. "He asked me to marry him. And I'm planning to say yes." That does catch me off guard.

"When… How long… "

"For almost two years now."

"But, Meg, we need you here…"

"Not for another few months. Erik, please, let me do this. I love him…" I have no way of disputing that.

"Fine. But you'll need a new name. No girl is married."

"Works for me. I didn't really like being called the Ooh-La-La Girl, anyway." The twins start jabbering in Romany, trying to ask me what just passed between me and Meg, and I long to switch places with her, if only for a moment…

**_GUSTAVE_**

"Maman, where are we going?" She's been keeping our evening plans a secret from me all day.

"You'll see, Gustave. Patience!"

"You say that too often!"

"You get impatient too often!"

"Please, Maman? Just a hint?"

"No, darling." She gasps for a moment. "Nad….no… no, never mind."

"What's Nad?"

"Not Nad. Nadir. An old acquaintance of your fathers."

"From… that night?"

"Yes..."

"Christine Daaé?" A mustached man comes out the door of the building we're heading into. "My word, is that you?" Maman smiles graciously, kissing his cheek.

"Monsieur Abelard! It's been a long time. May I introduce my son, Gustave?"

"Hello," I murmur shyly.

"Well, isn't he a chip of the old block! Just as good looking as his Maman!"

"Thank you."

"So, what brings you here, my dear?"

"Nostalgia. I thought Gustave ought to see one of my favorite spots to perform. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all! Pierre! Do we still have Mademoiselle Daaé's old repertoire?" he yells back in.

"Of course we do! We keep all our best collections!" Maman smiles at the man's shouted reply.

"Come on, then, darling."

"Do I get a front row seat?" a familiar voice asks.

"Papa!" I laugh, hugging him tightly.

"Raoul!" Maman gives hims a quick kiss. "I thought you had a meeting."

"We got out early. The others wanted to go for a drink, but I declined."

"I am so proud of you!" Maman squeals in delight. "This calls for a song!"

"Like I said, I get the seat with the best view," he answers, kissing her for what feels like far too long. Finally, they stop and mother goes in and gets up on the little stage, singing Elissa's aria from Act Three of Hannibal. A hand lands on my shoulder.

"May I have a word with you alone, young man?" I look up to see a handsome, teak-skinned man with hooded eyes peering down at me. "My name is Nadir Khan. I knew your father." That is enough to get me to allow him to lead me outside.

"When you say my father, do you mean Raoul or Erik?" I ask quietly. Nadir's hooded eyes search my face.

"Have you always known?"

"No… only for a few months. I'm still getting used to it."

"You seem to have no problem with it."

"That's not true. I… I still see him in my nightmares sometimes." I hang my head guiltily. "Am I wrong to say that?"

"It is not irrational to fear him, boy. I have seen him as a murderer, a thief, a charlatan of all kinds. It is rational to be afraid of what he can do. But it is wrong to fear or hate him for his face. Despite all appearances, he is a man, with as much capability for good as there is for evil."

"Were you his friend?"

"One of the few he had." Nadir sighs heavily. "How old are you? Ten?"

"Yes, I just had my birthday a few weeks ago. Right after we got back from America."

"Then he was two years older…"

"He, sir?"

"My son, Reza. Your father helped him to move on…"

"Move on?" The terrible meaning grips my mind. "He didn't!"

"He saved Reza a lot of pain."

"You're a good man to say that, sir."

"Thank you…"

"Gustave!" Maman hurries out to me. "What on earth made you think it was a good idea to disappear like that?"

"Maman, I…"

"It was my fault, Mademoiselle Daaé… Madame de Chagny."

"Monsieur le Daroga… goodness… I wasn't expecting to see you."

"I've said what I needed to. I'll be going now." He gives a quick bow and disappears into the night.

"You wanted me, Maman?"

"Your father suggested you play, but no one could find you. Come on, let's get you back inside before you catch a chill."

"Yes, Maman." I grumble.

"Why don't you play one of those compositions I hear you writing in your room all the time?"

"Maman!" I turn red at the ears.

"Come along, my little Mozart."

_**CHRISTINE**_

However grudgingly it may be, Gustave takes his place at the piano and begins to play.

_Midnight, not a sound from the pavement..._

_Has the moon lost her memory?_

_She is shining alone._

_In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at his feet_

_And the wind begins to moan._

_Memory, all alone in the moonlight_

_He can smile at the old days_

_Life was beautiful then_

_He remembers the time he knew what happiness was_

_Let the memory live again_

_Burnt out ends of smokey days_

_The stale cold smell of morning_

_The streetlamp dies, another night is over_

_Another day is dawning_

_Daylight, he must wait for the sunrise_

_He must think of a new life_

_And he mustn't give in_

_When the dawn comes tonight will be a memory too_

_And a new day will begin_

_Touch him, it's so easy to leave him_

_All alone with the memory_

_Of one day in the sun_

_If you touch him you'll understand what happiness was_

_Look, a new day has begun_

The sheer beauty of the music overwhelms everyone, several people are crying. And all I can think of is Erik. It's as if Gustave has become his father's mouthpiece, trying to reach me…

"Are you alright?" Raoul whispers in my ear.

"Raoul, he's…"

"I know, my darling. I've learned to accept it."

"Madame? Monsieur?" We both turn to see a rather distinguished looking, elderly gentleman smiling politely at us. "Am I addressing Christine Daaé?"

"Yes, I am she."

"Oscar Hammerstein. I believe we exchanged correspondence before Mr. Y snatched you away."

"It's an honor, sir." Raoul says, shaking his hand.

"The honor's all mine, Monsieur de Chagny. But , you know, this was a real stroke of luck. When I heard you left Phantasma without singing, I thought fate has given me a second chance. And now, hearing that little boy of yours… well, forgive my language, but the two of you could have one hell of a duo career."

"You flatter us."

"Have you heard what the two of you sound like separately? Absolutely amazing. So, the two of you together? Even more brilliant, I should think."

"We'll think about it, sir," Raoul interrupts. "However, we currently intend to spend our time focusing on our family. Perhaps later?"

"Yes, I understand completely. Here's my card. Feel free to call at any time."

"Thank you. Good night."

_**RAOUL**_

"Damn the man!"

"Raoul, language!"

"Christine, over the past two months, we have received more letters than I care to count, all regarding you and Gustave performing!"

"Darling, that's the price of fame. You never had a problem with this back when we were first married."

"Gustave was not a part of it back then!" Christine sighs, running her fingers through her hair. "Speaking of which, where is he?"

"Composing in his… never mind. Gustave, come here for a moment."

"Er… now, Maman?" He shifts guiltily from one foot to the other.

"Yes, now. Unless…" her voice begins to rise in alarm. "What is that in your hands?"

"Nothing!"

"Gustave, give me that!" He shakes his head, clinging to what I see is a letter. But it couldn't be… "Now."

"No! No! It's for me! It's mine!" Almost in tears, Gustave runs away as fast as he can. Christine and I exchange glances.

"Why does it seem like I'm more worried about him interacting with Erik than you are?" she asks sharply.

"Christine… you will think this selfish of me, but I'm trying to indulge him, in the hopes that he'll be able to forgive me for how I wronged him for so long. Even if he is not the son of my blood… I love him, and I want him to be happy…." She starts sobbing and smiling at the same time.

"You're not the selfish one… I am… Oh, Raoul…" Not knowing anything else to do, I take her in my arms and kiss her tenderly, trying to let her lose herself in our love. Our love that we might just be able to fully recover…

_**GUSTAVE**_

I read the letter again and again, my hands trembling, until it becomes etched in my brain.

_Gustave,_

_I must ask your forgiveness for not replying sooner. Until recently, all your letters to me have been intercepted and destroyed before I could read them._

_That you even took the time to write to a man who abandoned both you and your mother before your birth. What I did that night, among my other transgressions of the past, was unforgivable. I do not deserve to call you my son, though there is nothing I want more in this world._

_Only tell me what I must do to redeem myself in your eyes, and I will do it. I will do anything, and give everything for your sake, which leads me to my next point. Phantasma, even if you never decide to accept me, is to be yours. No one could do justice to my creation as you could._

_Anxiously awaiting your reply,_

_Erik Charles Carriere_

_PS: What you choose to call me is exactly that: Your choice._

* * *

A/N: Ho merde, it's been 8 months since I updated this! Bad Caelia! Bad Caelia!_  
_


	8. Try To Deny It

**_CHRISTINE_**

"What about this?" Gustave holds out an invitation for Boston's Colonial Theatre. "I've read about Boston. It's a very interesting city... I'd like to see a baseball game..."

"That wouldn't be until spring, dear, and by then, I'd have my hands full with the baby."

"Oh... well, the Colonial is still not a new theater, so there wouldn't be as many reporters as there would be if we were at an inaugural."

"It does look like a very pleasant city, Christine," Raoul muses, examining a photograph.

"Oh, I see, you're on his side."

"We are not having this argument again, we all know how it's going to end."

"Of course... It's not fair." I pretend to sulk, but inside, my head is reeling. Boston... anything in America feels too close. Too close to him...

_Try to deny it, and try to protest... But love won't let you go, once you've been possessed..._ Oh, God, why can't I stop thinking about that song?

"Maman, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing... I promise, it's nothing, just..."

"The baby?"

"Yes, Raoul. The baby." Anything but the truth... Anything but admitting that, even though I have the man I once loved and married back, I find myself falling more and more in love all over again with Erik. Oh, why does this have to happen? "I... I need to sleep."

"You've been sleeping practically nonstop. Are you sure everything is all right?"

"It's just a part of pregnancy, I swear..."

"It is not, and you know it," Raoul interrupts. "Gustave, could you please leave us alone for a moment?"

"But, Papa..."

"No buts." Gustave accepts defeat with little dignity, scribbling notes on his hand and moaning. Raoul closes the door, his lips set firmly. "This is about Erik, isn't it?"

"Raoul, please, try to understand..."

"I know it's hard seeing Gustave turn out so much like him, but we need to learn to accept it. He's a wonderful young man." If only it were that simple...

"Raoul, I..."

"I don't blame you. You know that. So, can we agree that Boston shouldn't yield any trouble?" He kisses me so tenderly, so innocently, that I want to cry. Raoul, I don't deserve you... I don't deserve you...

"Yes..."

XxXxX

"Mother, it's Christmas. Could you at least smile even if you're not going to sing along?"

"Gustave, please..." I sigh, impatiently. I have no tolerance for holidays right now. "Not right..." Someone knocks at the door loudly, interrupting me. "What on earth...?"

"Meg?" Raoul's voice comes from the foyer in shock. "Meg Giry?"

"Hello, Raoul!" Meg says cheerfully. "Happy Christmas! Oh, wait, I almost forgot! Tom, get out of the snow and come say hello!"

"Meg!" I shoot up out of my chair and run downstairs to hug her. She looks positively radiant, grinning widely, snowflakes stuck on her nose and eyelashes. "You look wonderful!" Her smile widens as she holds up her left hand.

"And I'm married!"

"MEG!" My best friend married! "Oh, this is wonderful!"

"Yeah, so, do you mind if we come in? It's a little cold out here." My jaw nearly drops. With jet black hair, dark eyes, and an easy smile, the man I'm guessing is Meg's husband looks for all the world like Erik would have, had there not been his birth defects... "Thomas Winterfield. It's an honor, Christine, Meg's told me a lot about you."

"I'm glad Meg's found someone so special. Please. Do come in, I'm sorry..."

**_RAOUL_**

She can try to hide it, but I know what's going on. I see it in the way she looks at Meg's husband. I hear it in how she sings _C'est le jour de la Noël. _She loves him. She loves Erik.

And I love her. I need to do what I can to make her happy. I excuse myself to make a phone call.

"Monsieur de Chagny, do you have any idea what hour it is?"

"Yes, I do. Bu there's something rather urgent I need to talk to you about."

_**ERIK**_

"Say it back to me."

"Which... way... to Coney... Island?" Sorina says haltingly. Stela says several profanities in Romany that remind me not to curse around them ever again.

"Which way to Coney Island? That is where we live now, but we are new here. Can you help?"

"Yes, Stela, very good, but no one likes a show off. Help your sister rather than just bragging."

"_Gorgio_..."

"And no more using that word."

"Listen to you, you sound like a father," Meg laughs merrily from the door. "I'm back!"

"Meg!" The twins rush at her in delight, knocking her to the ground.

"Hey, double, double, toil and trouble, stop it!" Thomas comes up the stairs, his brown hair tousled and his blue eyes twinkling. "We kind of need Meg in one piece for our opening in May!"

"Is.. four months... away," Sorina protests.

"I know, Star, but we've got a lot of work to do. Erik, you would not believe the vision that Meg and I had on the way back. The Coney Island Diamond." He spreads his hands as if proclaiming the name in lights. "You were thinking of building a new Crystal Palace, and besides, I know I married a gem."

"Tom, stop it!" Meg giggles as he leans in to kiss her and the twins start tittering in delight.

"Oh, for God's sake, you two, get away from there. We have work to do."

"Awwww..."

"Come on, back to your rooms."

"But, Erik!"

"No buts. The adults are working. Go ask Miss Fleck and Mr. Squelch if they're willing to play with you."

"No fair..."

"Life is not fair, girls. But if I have my way, it will be far gentler to you than it will be to most immigrant children. Now, go." They give me a Romany gesture I've tried very hard to forget before heading downstairs.

"Very well handled," Thomas comments. "They know you mean well."

"They're rebellious little imps, but they are completely engaging, and I'm glad I decided to let them in my life."

"Oh, that reminds me! Tom, where'd we put that big package for Erik?" Meg gasps, desperately rummaging through the luggage.

"Meg, honey, call down. It's in the trunk, right where you left it."

"Thank you, mon cher."

"What, you got me a souvenir of Paris? You shouldn't have."

"Oh, I think you'll like what we brought." She struggles to pull out a rather large box.

"What is it? All forty copies of score of Don Juan Triumphant?"

"Better." Meg says smugly. "Open it."

"Alright, alright! Give me a moment!" I brush aside my latest failure at writing to open the box, and am rendered speechless. More envelopes than I can count, all addressed to 'Father' surround a photograph of Gustave, who sits enraptured by an old friend.

"How did you get it to him? The monkey... I thought it had been destroyed when the mob came to the catacombs."

"If you can believe it, Meg insisted on dragging me to the Paris Opera just to look for it. You should've seen the kid's face when he saw it." Thomas grins. "You might've thought it was his birthday, or Christmas."

"It was Christmas, Tom. Remember? You said it would be perfectly alright to interrupt them-"

"Meg, they didn't mind!"

"They were being polite."

"Ah, same thing."

"Thank you, Meg... this is... this is priceless."

"You haven't even seen all the music he insisted we bring. Was he Mozart in a past life?"

"No, I was."

"Seriously?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Well... Happy New Year... Come on, Meg. Let's leave him alone."

"You and I might just be friends, Thomas," I muse, lifting out Gustave's compositions. _They're incredible..._ Then I catch sight of a single envelope, in a handwriting different from all the rest. A woman's elegant script. Christine? My hands are shaking as I open it.

_Erik,_

_Raoul knows. More than that, he has accepted what I have been trying to deny. I love you. Oh, God. I finally found the courage to admit it. I know there's no chance for us, not now that I'm expecting Raoul's child._

The paper crumples in my hand. The thought of the two of them... Christine in that damned boy's arms, sighing his name, yielding to his touch...

_But that cannot change who I am or what I feel. Perhaps… somehow… someday… somewhere… I can be yours once again. Until then, I place my trust in Meg and Thomas to see this delivered to you._

_Love… oh, all my love, my voice, and my soul,_

_Love,_

_Christine_

She loves me...

She loves me...

SHE LOVES ME.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so Christine has an onslaught of guilt that results in a realization of her love for Erik, Raoul knows it and is trying to do something, Meg's married to a Ramin look-alike (for all those Merik shippers), and Erik has two little menaces for adopted daughters. So what's going to happen next? Screw me if I know! (Hey, Ramin, if you're reading this, I am serious.) ;-)


	9. Say You Love Him And My Life Is Over

Caelia: Everyone! We have notes!

Christine: You really did enjoy the concert too much...

Erik: Christine, Boggess and Karimloo have been officially immortalized as us. We are going to get references to the original story from now on. We must learn to accept our fate.

Raoul: So why am I here? That was Fraser's first time in Phantom.

Caelia: Yeah, but a lot of people seem to think Hadley dearest did a very LND-style job of playing you. I disagree. He was perfect! *kisses a picture of Hadley*

Erik: Thank- *Caelia pulls out a picture of Ramin and starts kissing it* Never mind... -.-

Christine: *reading the notes* Well, LNDcrazygirl wrote _"Poor Christine, (though completely her fault for picking wrong) i want to know whether the baby is a boy or girl now, and is it 100% certain to be Raoul's because i know it must be but still. :( though all babies are wonderful. Love the Romanian Girls they are very sweet. Update soon please :)"_ That's... somewhat complimentary.

Stela: 'Rina! We got a 'sweet!'

Sorina: Yaaay! *adorable twin hugs*

Caelia: Awwwww... OCs... Yes, the as of yet unnamed baby is Raoul's. As for Christine... yes, she chose... poorly-

Lila: QUIT THE INDIANA JONES REFERENCES!

Caelia: GET OUT OF MY PRE-STORY NOTES! *takes a moment to calm down, while reading DTphantom's review* Okay, where was I? Oh, yes. We need to understand Christine as being a woman who tries to play it safe. She loves Erik, but a future with Raoul was the safe and secure choice. Does this make her a slut? No, DTphantom, I don't think so. Nor am I about to kill an innocent baby over it.

Erik: *reading the review aloud* _" Sorry, but I hope Raoul's baby dies! Christine your such a slut! Go back to Erik! Gustave go back to your real father!"_ Well, that's somewhat gratifying.

Christine: Erik!

Erik: I said somewhat!

Caelia: Ugh, you guys...*reads the final review and grins* Finally! Someone who gets it! Thank you, TheAustralianZombie, you get virtual cookies for noticing! I've been trying to write Raoul as his original: Someone who cares about Christine enough that he puts her needs before his own.

Erik: *grumbles*

Caelia: Patience, Erik. You'll get what's yours.

Raoul: *reading my files* Are you planning to make him wait another four years?

Caelia: Um...no...

Raoul: But the ship...

Caelia: THAT WAS AN EARLY DRAFT! I HATE TITANIC, THIS IS NOT TITANIC! THIS IS FANFICTION! IT IS NOT REAL!

Enjolras: Obviously, or our musical really would not have been such a smash hit.

Caelia: Enjolras, what are you doing here, and what are you talking about?

Eponine: Your successful revolution in our story, plus the fact that the two of us SURVIVE the barricades in it.

Caelia: Right, right...and OmiRamin, we've taken up a full page on Word! Back to the story! Now! Spoken italics between Erik and the twins are meant to be Romany, and I used the lyrics of Scott Alan's _Again_, as sung by Hadley!

XxXxX

_**GUSTAVE**_

"Raoul, you can't!"

"Christine, I don't have a choice!"

"It's been twelve years since you were last called! How can this... Raoul, I've only just gotten you back, I can't... I can't do this without you!" Mother is sobbing now. "Please, don't do this..."

"I don't want to, you know."

"Then don't go!"

"You would make me a traitor to my country?"

"No, Raoul… please…"

"Christine, there's no changing this. And, Gustave, I think we've had a discussion about your little eavesdropping problem before." Papa opens the door to their study and I tumble onto his legs.

"Uh….hello, Papa…."

"You should be in bed, Gustave," Mother says quietly.

"What's going on?" I demand. They have one of those looks where they're trying to decide how much to tell me. "Tell me, Papa!" He holds out a letter which Mother tries to grab.

"Christine, he deserves to know that Iʻm going!" Papa snaps.

"He deserves to know you're leaving us!"

"Leaving?" I repeat in shock.

"It's a duty to my country, Gustave, I have to go."

"But where?"

"A polar expedition!" Mother wails. "That stupid North pole expedition! How can you do this to us?"

"Christine, it is not debatable!"

"Raoul, please—"

"Love, I can't. You and Gustave leave tomorrow night, and I leave the morning after." Papa turns away, biting his lip. "I'll miss you."

"Liar," she says bitterly, not looking at him.

_**CHRISTINE**_

"Mother? We're casting off."

"So?" I ask angrily.

"Mother, Papa didn't want to—"

"Gustave, don't. Please, just leave me be." I know I must sound bitter and hateful, but I have no idea what to do. I bury my face in the pillow of my bed. _Where did I go wrong? When was the exact moment?_

"May I go up to the deck?"

"No, Gustave."

"But—"

"I don't want you running off alone. Understand?"

"Yes, Mother," he says, and I can hear the bitterness in his voice. It automatically makes me reconsider my words. But he's already in his own room, playing the piano. And I am once again victim to a churning sea of memories.

**_ERIK_**

_"Erik, what's wrong?"_ I turn my eyes from the ocean to see Sorina staring up at me sadly.

_"Sorina... You should be in bed. And where's Stela?"_ This is the first time since they were reunited that I've seen the two of them apart.

_"She's asleep. But I couldn't. I kept thinking about that lady. The statue. Chris...Christine."_

_"What about her?"_ I ask, trying to hide my bitterness.

_"Why did she really leave you?"_ I consider my next move for a very long time.

_"Sorina, I can show you. But you must promise me you will not scream or run away. Do you promise? You cannot tell anyone, not even your sister."_

"I...promise..." she says slowly in English. I take her little hand and place it on top of my mask.

"Go on." I say, preparing myself for the worst. She carefully pulls it away, her dark eyes widening in shock. "_Remember_, you promised."

_"You're hurting," _she says simply. My jaw drops. I was not expecting that._ "You've been hurting a long time. A mama, and my people, and others... it's not fair. And she hurt you most."_

_"Did your mother ever mention the Sight to you, little one?"_ None of the gypsies I've encountered in the past have ever been this... this... perceptive.

_"A little. Why?"_

_"I think you may have it. What do you see when you look at your sister?"_

_"She wants more. She's glad we're with you. But she wants to fly away someday... she wants to forget what we used to be."_

_"I see... go back to bed, please. I'm fine, really. I'll see you in the morning."_

"Yes, Erik." She turns and hurries back inside. I wander through the aerie, plucking out solitary notes on the piano. A very old song. About eleven years old.

**You look beautiful as always**

**Never fail to take my breath away**

**He's a lucky guy to have you**

**How'd I ever let you slip away?**

**In our completely perfect world**

**The two of you would not have met**

**You wouldn't look so radiant there**

**In your wedding dress**

**But this is not a perfect world**

**And I know I should not be here**

**Just I have to say one thing**

**Before I disappear**

**Again**

**I love you still**

**I've never stopped who knows if I will**

**I don't want to see us end**

**So here I am hoping you'll come home**

**To me**

**Again**

**Please say something**

**Say anything at all**

**I can't handle the silence**

**Yes I know this is not the place or time**

**I can't bear that I may lose you**

**If I could turn the hands of time**

**And have a chance to right my wrongs**

**Love you twice as much**

**Held you twice as strong**

**I should have never let you go**

**And I shouldn't have walked away believe**

**Now that we are here**

**There's one thing that I need to say**

**I love you still**

**I've never stopped**

**I don't think that I will**

**I don't want to see us end**

**But here I am hoping you'll come home**

**To me again**

**And I'm down here on my knees again**

**Begging you not to marry him**

**If you do I know my heart will break**

**There is only so much it can take**

**Come with me, go on take my hand**

**Leave a note; I'm sure he'll understand**

**I love you still**

**I've never stopped**

**I know I never will**

**Please don't let this be our end**

**Here I am praying you'll come home**

**With me**

**Again...**

_"It's pretty." _Not surprisingly, Stela is the one awake this time.

_"What are you doing still up?"_

_"Rina came back in. And I heard you playing. Was it about her?"_

_"You and your sister are just determined to interrupt my night of solitude?"_ I grumble. The twins have a precocious charm, yes, but I already find myself missing my loneliness. Odd, really. _"Go back to bed and sleep already, will you?"_ She gives a little huff that clearly says 'I'll do it because I want to, not because you're telling me to.'

_**RAOUL**_

Some would tell me I'm running from my problems. I'm not running from the problem. I am the problem. And this is the only way.

I look down at the churning black waters of the Arctic and swallow. I had never pictured things going this way. But there's no other choice. She has to believe that it was not on purpose. The photograph of her and Gustave is clammy in my hand, but I can't turn back now. I have to do what's best for them.

I close my eyes.

I bend my knees.

And I jump.

The wind whistles in my ears as I plummet down. I don't open my eyes as I hit the icy water. All I can see is her face.

Her face as the sea swallows me. Her face is the last thing as everything fades to black. And then… there is nothing.

XxXxX

Caelia: I did it… I finally did it….Oh, my….oh, wow… Um… yeah… review… bye….


	10. All These Years

A/N: Hi, everyone. Soo….yeah. I actually wasn't anticipating the reviews I got. Yes, I killed Raoul! And for a story where we were getting earlier review asking for Raoul's death, I was amazed how many people sent in reviews saying 'No, don't kill Raoul!' HOW DO I MAKE YOU PEOPLE HAPPY? You know what? Fuck you all! It's my story! Oh, I'm just kidding, I love you all! Kisses! Mwah! Mwah! Mwah! Story time! Get your skimpy dressing room, grab your rose covered blankies, and your Phantom plushies, and get comfortable on your boat/swan beds! Let's do this! Oh, and there's a nice little cameo by Ewan McGregor as Christian from Moulin Rouge. What can I say? I'm a sucker for Ewan!

_**GUSTAVE**_

Mother runs her finger idly along her saucer, chewing her lip. "Mother," I whisper, placing my hand on hers. "You need to cheer up. Papa wouldn't want you to be sulking like this."

"I am not sulking."

"Yes, you are."

"I am not!" she says hotly. "Gustave, why do you have to be so like—" She stops short and looks up.

"Christine Daaé?" The speaker is a young man with dark hair and clear blue eyes.

"Have we met?"

"Once, a few years ago. You were doing that show in Montmartre, and you needed a writer?"

"Because we were short on songs that night! Christian!" Mother breaks into a genuine smile. "Wonderful to see you again! And how does the world's finest bohemian writer?"

Christian shrugs. "Not very well. After about seven years of trying my hand at European publishers, I'm taking my manuscript to America."

"Oh, yes. The one about Satine?" He nods sadly. "I'm sorry…"

"Ah, well, America's the new Bohemia anyway. I might as well follow. Anyway, don't tell me this is your little Gustave. He was what, three when we last met?"

"Four. Gustave, do you remember Christian?"

"No," I say, glad they've finally remembered me. "As you said, I was four." Christian tousles my hair and looks down at my music.

"Budding musician, huh? Impressive."

"Do you mind?"

"Someone's touchy…."

"It's just a phase," Mother says, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, Christian, I'd love to be able to read your finished work at some point."

"That might be possible, but right now, I'm heading to bed."

"It's only four in the afternoon!"

"Best time for sleeping, I find. I do my best work in the wee hours."

"Writers. All the same," Mother mutters. "I swear to God, the number of times this little menace has woken me up playing on his violin…"

"Mother!"

"Well, it's true!"

"Telegram for Christine de Chagny!" a waiter calls. "I have an urgent telegram for Christine de Chagny!"

"Well, you have fun with that. Good night," Christian waves at both of us and disappears into the crowd. Mother accepts the telegram and waves the waiter away, reading it.

"Oh… Oh… Oh, no…" The blood drains from her face and the telegram slips from her hand onto the table.

"Mother, what's wrong? Mother!"

"I… I need to… go back to the room… and sleep…" she mumbles incoherently, standing shakily and starting back towards the room. I slowly pick up the message and read it.

_For: Mme. Christine de Chagny:_

_It is with great sorrow that I must inform you of the death of your husband. We recovered his body from the sea this morning, and it is our best guess that he fell from the deck and was unnoticed until it was too late. You have our greatest condolences._

_~ Capt. Jules Legard_

He's dead… the man I've been calling my father for my entire life is dead. I stuff the telegram in my pocket and run after Mother. "Mother! Mother!" I grab the door, but it's locked. "Mother, please! Open the door!"

"HE PROMISED! HE PROMISED AND NOW… NOW…" her voice comes out as a muffled scream.

"Mother, at least let me in!"

"YOU CAN GO TO HELL, RAOUL DE CHAGNY, YOU HEAR ME? AFTER ALL YOU PUT ME THROUGH, YOU CAN GO TO HELL! I STAYED WITH YOU THROUGH EVERYTHING! ALL THOSE YEARS, WASTED? I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!" She keeps screaming, but I decide to stop paying attention to her and try to find a way to pick the lock. Unfortunately, I don't have anything useful for that. I sink down against the door in defeat.

_**ERIK**_

"Read it again! Read it again!" Sorina begs, grabbing at my arm.

"I told you that was the last one!" I pry her off of me and put the book of fairy tales back on the shelf. "It's nine o' clock, and the two of you need to sleep!"

"But we're not tired!"

"Stela, you're not fooling anyone, I can see you yawning."

"You're no fun!"

"Girls, I'm glad you've picked up English so quickly, but that doesn't change the fact that you are growing and need—"

"He's dead." Sorina says simply. Stela and I both look at her in utter confusion. "It's so cold… and wet…. Can't breath… And he's dead…"

"Who is it? Rina, answer me!" Stela shakes her sister. "Rina, who are you seeing?"

"YOU CAN GO TO HELL, RAOUL DE CHAGNY, YOU HEAR ME? AFTER ALL YOU PUT ME THROUGH, YOU CAN GO TO HELL!" Sorina screams and falls back into bed, writhing wildly. Stela starts pushing me out the door.

"Erik, she needs to be with me. Just me… we always do this when she gets like this."

"But, Stela—"

"Please." The pitiful look on her face silences me and I head back to the aerie. Gustave's picture smiles at me from the piano, Christine's crucifix draped over it so that the charm dangles on top of the music box. It can't be possible… Sorina couldn't really have seen what she was screaming about… I reach up and finger the crucifix. Was this some kind of sadistic second chance from God? Giving me a chance at happiness by taking the life of another? And Christine… if this is true, what will she do? Even if she does love me, how can anything between us be possible now?

No. It can't be. It's always going to be impossible.

**_CHRISTINE_**

"Mother, at least eat something. Please?"

"Gustave, leave me alone." All I want to do is crawl into a hole and die. I don't believe for an instant that his death was an accident. He did it on purpose, and he did it for me… "I'm a despicable human being," I sob into the pillow.

"It's not your fault."

"What do you know?"

"Mother, I'm not trying to hurt you…"

"I said leave me alone! PLEASE!"

"No! You need to hear this! Maybe I'm only eleven, but you need to hear this! You're being selfish and—"

"Selfish! You don't know anything! Everything is ruined! And the baby… God, why…."

"Mother, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing… Nothing…"

"Tell me."

"No…"

"Please?"

"I said no."

"Mother—"

"Gustave, enough."

"Can you at least look at this?" He presses a sheet of music into my hands. "Please?"

"Changing the subject is not going to soften me up." My eyes run along the music for barely a minute. "This is your father's music!"

"Oh, come on! I meant the lyrics!"

"Gustave. I can't. Not right now. Please, darling."

_**TWO VOICES: ERIK & CHRISTINE**_

There was a time….Oh, what I would not give to go back to that time…. When I chose wrong. When I turned my back on the person I loved most in favor of selfishness. When I was too foolish to realize what I had. Can I ever reclaim what I lost? Or am I doomed to live with my love just out of my reach?


	11. After All This Time

A/N: Well, here we go. The big one. The reunion.

XxXxXxX

_**CHRISTINE**_

"Christine Daaé! Over here!"

"Christine de Chagny!"

"_LEAVE HER ALONE!_" Gustave yells, shoving a camera away from us. "All of you, get away!"

"Madame de Chagny?"

"I said go away!"

"Meg sent me."

"Meg?" I turn to see Thomas Winterfield standing by a carriage, his face as somber as the black suit he's wearing. "Thomas!"

"I'm so sorry about all this."

"Did...did he send you?" Gustave asks.

"Yes, he did."

"Mother—"

"Gustave, how can I….after everything I've done to him?"

"Can we talk about this privately on the train? People are staring." Tom interrupts gently.

"Yes, I think so." I climb into the waiting carriage and pull Gustave up after me. Tom shuts the door behind us, and the carriage starts. For better or worse, we're on our way to Erik.

**_ERIK_**

"And...they…. lived…. happily… ever… after…" Sorina reads haltingly. "The… end."

"Very good. You've picked it up quite well, Sorina. Stela…"

"Hmph!" Stela crosses her arms and turns away, stroking Ayesha. The cat purrs smugly in her arms.

"How you got that menace to warm up to you is beyond me. But aren't you going to read anything?"

"No."

"Don't tell me you're waiting for Tom."

"And what if I am?"

"You'll be waiting for a long time."

"No, she won't," Sorina says simply.

"Careful. I don't want you to collapse again."

"Yes, Erik. I understand. Not too much."

"Good girl. Now," I bend down to lock eyes with her. "Tell me where Thomas went."

"I can't."

"Sorina, tell me."

"No!"

"I'm trying not to get angry."

"I can't, Erik! He made me promise!"

"_Sorina._" I say more forcefully. "_Now._"

"He went to get Christine and Gustave," Stela says simply.

"_STELA_!" Sorina shrieks. "We were supposed to keep it secret!"

"You were getting boring."

"_Boring_!"

"Both of you, enough!" The two of them shut their mouth automatically, fear in Sorina's dark eyes and disdain in Stela's light ones. "Is it true?" Both of them nod solemnly. Christine...coming here... "Girls...I need you to go to your room."

"But—"

"Now." I need to find her.

_**GUSTAVE**_

Mother continues pacing the floor, running her fingers through her loose hair. "What do we do now, Erik?" she asks the empty air, reaching out desperately. Her hands meet nothing and fall to her side. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"Mother, please, stop it."

"Let me talk to her." I turn to see…

"Father."

"Hello, Gustave." He sits on the balcony, dressed simply in all black, his mask illuminated in the moonlight. His face is solemn, not at all the gloating smirk I would have expected him to be wearing at the death of his rival. "May we have a moment?"

"Take as many as you need," I say, going into my room and closing the door. Once it clicks, I press my ear to the keyhole.

"I'm sorry, ma cherie."

"He did it for us. So we could be together. Oh, Erik, I'm horrible!" she sobs. "I'm an awful person, and—"

"No." His voice is equally somber. "Christine, you are not horrible. Please… don't cry. I can't bear to see you crying."

"I brought this on myself!"

"I won't argue that you had some part in this. We both did. We did this to ourselves. But now…."

"There's no now, Erik!"

"Yes, there is! You said it yourself, he did this for you. He wanted you to be happy."

"Erik—"

"Christine, I've waited ten years and I will wait another ten years if I have to. Is a little human happiness really so much to want? Is love too much to ask?"

"No…But…"

"But nothing. He realized what we couldn't. He did what he had to in order to make the woman he loved happy. As I tried to do that night…"

"Everything went wrong that night…. I never should have…"

"I manipulated you. I knew what you would do and I used it to my advantage. And I thought I could do it again."

"Was it worth it, Erik? To see me again, only to watch me walk away from you?"

"I keep hoping there will be a time when you'll stay."

"There was that one time—"

"Christine, please! You think I don't regret it, knowing everything I do now?" There's the familiar sound of a glass slamming down on a table.

"Then don't act as though I'm the only one who's walked out!"

"I never said you were!" Both of their voices are rising now, and my grip tightens on the doorknob.

"You implied it!"

"Always jumping to conclusions, aren't you?"

"Based on past precedence, aren't I justified?" I hear my father take a deep, hissing breath through his teeth.

"You are. I am the one who is wrong in this. I am sorry, ma rossignol. Now, I think someone needs to get his head away from that keyhole before he falls flat on his face." I pull away just as he opens the door. "You seem to have inherited my eavesdropping tendencies, haven't you?"

"Er…" I smile sheepishly. "I guess so."

"Gustave, shame on you," Mother sighs, setting down her own glass down beside the other on the coffee table. "We've talked about this before."

"Raoul's death was an accident. Captain Legard said so. Don't you believe him?" I give Mother a very pointed look. Her eyes travel down to her growing stomach. "Don't you?"

"Gustave, enough. Go to bed."

"But it's only half past seven!"

"Bed."

"Yes, mother." I grumble, heading back into the bedroom.

_**CHRISTINE**_

Erik checks the door. "He's in bed. Now, then—"

"Not now, Erik."

"Then when? I told you, I'm willing to wait. Tell me how long I have to wait, and I will!" He clenches his fist tightly. "I _will_ wait!" A tense silence hangs in the air for a few moments as I contemplate this.

"A year," I say finally. "A year, Erik. Time for me to deliver the baby and to… recover. Can you—" Before I can finish, he gently takes me in his arms and kisses me. This is not the desperate kiss meant to soothe a madman, nor is it the passionate, urgent kisses we shared the night that Gustave was conceived. It's simply a kiss between a man finally being united with the woman he has always loved. As for me, I feel only the pure joy of knowing that I'm finally where I ought to be.

XxXxXxX

A/N: Hello, everyone. I realize this was a short chapter, but this seemed the best place to stop. Obviously, Erik and Christine will not be renewing their passion, given the baby on the way, so it's not like I could attempt a full-out lemon, which I have gotten a little more practice with, but I'm not so confident about that I can post one. I'm also in a major dilemma about how Gustave's going to react upon meeting the twins, and also what to name the baby, as I plan on skimming over the next four months (It's late January at this point, and the baby is due in May/June). If you have a suggested name for the baby (whose gender has yet to be decided), please feel free to leave it in a review. Additionally, because it is request dependent, I intend to put When Epic Musical Characters Meet on hold for the time being. Peace to all of you.

~Caelia


	12. To Get What's Mine

A/N: Well, long time no see….Not. As I mentioned in the last chapter, my only other open story is currently on hold, and I am dedicating myself to finishing this soon. So, here goes. I'm on a roll. Lyrics in this chapter are from Miss Saigon (Sun and Moon) and the Moulin Rouge version of Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend.

**_ERIK_**

"_Ma rossignol?_"

"Mmm?" she murmurs, looking up at me from where her head is nestled into my chest. "What is it, Erik?"

"There's something I ought to tell you. While you were in France… I took in two little girls."

"You did? Oh, that's so sweet!" She smiles widely. "Two girls, hmm…. I suppose that I should hope for a boy, then? To balance them out?"

"I'd prefer you have a daughter. One that is the spitting image of her mother." And nothing like her father.

"Erik…." I can tell she's on the verge of asking me to reveal what I had been thinking, but she bites her lip and goes back to the subject of the twins. "What are their names?"

"Stela and Sorina. Romany names."

"They're gypsies? But I thought you hated—"

"It is damn near impossible to hate the twins. Be irritated by them, yes. Get exasperated by them, absolutely. But never hate them. Even Ayesha likes them… or one of them ."

"Which one?"

"Stela. She's got quite the cynical personality. I think that's why Ayesha likes her. They're two of a kind."

"And here I thought that hateful cat cared only for you."

"Still jealous?"

"She almost clawed my face off!"

"Nuance, my sweet."

"Hmph." She sticks out her lower lip in a pout and fingers one of her curls. "And how is the composer?"

"In the midst of recreating Meg's image. Now that she's married, she's 'The Coney Island Diamond.' Tom's idea."

"Is that so? I suppose that means new music."

"And new costumes, new sets, it's going to cost me a fortune."

"Oh, please, Erik. You covered our… financial issues, and I doubt you really even noticed the money was gone." Now it is my turn to huff in annoyance.

"I've been here long enough… It'll be morning, soon."

"But, Erik—"

"We've been talking and kissing all night, Christine. I should go before anyone comes and starts spreading rumors about the widowed vicomtesse de Chagny entertaining a masked man who looks suspiciously like the Phantom of the Opera, a man who, by that logic, should be dead."

"Erik, this is America, not Paris—"

"You know how the press here is, don't you? They'll latch on to anything they can, Christine. You said a year, and a year is what you are getting. Understand?"

"Maybe less…."

"Why so impatient now?"

"You've never been this way with me before, Erik. We've never had the chance….to just to be like ordinary people. I want more of this."

"Yes, well, that's going to have to wait a bit longer." I kiss her one more time before heading out to the balcony.

"How are you getting down?"

"That's my secret. You should get some sleep now. I'll send someone to get you two later in the day so you can meet the twins and see Meg again."

"Thank you."

_**CHRISTINE**_

In many ways, I wonder if this is all a dream, and if I wake up, where will I be? When will I be? Suppose I were to awake one morning and discover I was still seven years old, still a little girl with a father, in a world where phantoms and crashing chandeliers were merely stories…. Oh, but it's all so real…

"Mother, you're going to ruin your sleeves if you keep picking at them like that."

"Oh…. I'm sorry… I was distracted…."

"You've been distracted all morning," Gustave points out as he takes another mouthful of eggs. "Exactly what happened between you and Father after you sent me to bed?"

"That is business between me and your father."

"Mother!"

"It is! It is not your concern, Gustave."

"I should think it is, given he's my father!"

"Gustave, enough." He scowls down at his food and starts beating it to a shapeless lump. "Really, you're acting incredibly immature, Gustave. I've never seen you like this."

"I hate not knowing things, Mother, you know that!"

"I do, and you're going to have to get used to disappointment. Curiosity killed the cat, after all."

"The situations are really nothing alike, Mother." A knock sounds at the door, sparing me from having to get into the argument any further.

"You finish eating. I'll get the door."

"Or I could just use this." The door opens to reveal Meg holding a key triumphantly. "Hello, Christine. Girls, come out from behind me and say hello to Christine."

"I don't want to."

"Stela, please."

"No!"

"I'll do it," a little voice says, and a small dark-haired girl emerges from behind Meg.

"Thank you, Sorina." The girl looks up at me with eyes like a starry sky and gives a wobbly curtsy.

"Hello, Christine," she says quietly. I kneel down so we're eye to eye.

"You aren't afraid of me, are you, little one?"

"A little."

"Why is that?"

"You're even prettier than I thought," she answers shyly. "That's why Erik loves you so much, right? Because someone so pretty is an angel."

"He calls me his angel, yes, but I'm just as human as you are, Sorina."

"Then you're not the best singer in the world, either, are you?" The other girl asks, striding into the room and sitting on the couch, a very haughty air about her as she strokes Ayesha. "I don't understand why Erik would want you or him when he's already got us." She points at Gustave, whose fist tightens around his fork, the knuckles turning white.

"He replaced us?"

"Stela!" Sorina says something to her sister in Romany that I can't understand, but for her tone, which is one of scolding.

"And do you feel the same way?" Gustave blurts out, glaring at her. "Do you think my father doesn't need me because he has you? Are you just as hateful as she is?"

"Gustave! That was uncalled for!"

"So was her comment! Aren't you going to scold her?" The twins start shouting in Romany and the fighting would escalate further but for Meg letting out a loud whistle.

"All three of you, stop it! Erik is not replacing anyone! Not me, not Christine, not you, Gustave, or you girls! There is room for all of us in his life!" Stela glares at Gustave with eyes as cold and hard as ice. Cat eyes. Gustave storms over to the piano and starts playing, ignoring her. Sorina leaves her sister's side and sits by Gustave.

"You play like he does," she says simply. "Are there words?"

"Yes."

"Sing them for me?" she swallows. "I mean, will you sing them for me?"

"It's supposed to be a duet. I can't sing it by myself."

"I want to go home," Stela mutters.

"That's enough lip out of you," Meg hisses through her teeth.

"Please sing it?" Sorina asks Gustave again.

"I can't do it alone. Can you read?"

"A little."

"Well, this is simple, so you should do alright." He grabs a piece of paper and starts writing on it. "Can you read music?"

"That was one of the first things Erik taught us."

"Good. You sing first, starting here." He points to a measure in his newly written-out composition. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." He starts playing and she starts singing softly. "You are sunlight and I moon, joined by the gods of fortune. Midnight and high noon, sharing the sky. We have been blessed, you and I…" Gustave takes

"You are here like a mystery. I'm from a world that's so different from all that you are. How, in the light of one night, did we come so far?

"Outside day starts to dawn…"

"Your moon still floats on high…"

"The birds awake!"

"The stars shine too!"

"My hands still shake!"

"I reach for you!"

"And we meet in the sky!" The two young voices blend so beautifully I nearly cry. Beside me, Meg is already sniffling.

"You are sunlight and I moon, joined here, bright'ning the sky with the flame of love…"

"Made of… Sunlight… Moonlight…"

"Can we go home now?" Stela whines.

"Please," Gustave mutters. "Do."

"We already told you, enough!"

"But—" Meg and I give the three of them cold stares.

"Yes, Mother."

"Yes, Meg," the twins chorus.

"Come on, girls, let's go home. Erik will be waiting for us to start on today's lessons." Meg takes their hands gently. "Sorry about that, Christine."

"We did get some nice music out of it," I say cheerfully.

"Yes… do keep composing, Gustave. You've got a wonderful talent. I expect you to make something of it. Promise me that?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He does a mock salute from the piano. "Good-bye, Sorina. Stela."

"Prat-face."

"Stela!"

"Well, he has got one!"

"I have not!"

"Yes, you have, you filthy _gorgio_!" Sorina smacks her sister and starts jabbering rapidly in Romany.

"Um… I'll see you tomorrow, Christine," Meg says apologetically as she shepherds them out, the two of them still arguing heatedly.

"I like Sorina," Gustave says after a few moments of silence.

"So I noticed. The two of you looked very sweet together."

"Mother!"

"I'm only joking." I kiss his hair gently.

_**GUSTAVE**_

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Gustave, I'll be fine. I delivered you just fine, and the baby's not due for another two weeks."

"Mother, I'm only saying…"

"Go on! You should see Meg's opening performance. We've been in New York for almost five months, you know your way around and I trust you. Now hurry, or you won't make the ferry in time!"

"All right, all right!" I kiss her cheek before running down and heading into the bustling Manhattan streets. The blend of sounds and smells has begun to feel like home.

"Not going to the show like that, are you, young master Gustave?" I turn around to see a familiar glass carriage.

"Miss Fleck! Mr. Squelch! Dr. Gangle!"

"Quite unfair that we've not been allowed to see you, m'boy," Squelch says, picking me up with one hand. "Get in!"

"How can he when you're carrying him?" Fleck asks. "Come on, Squelch, set him down."

"I'll do one better," he answers, placing me inside.

"Here we go!" Gangle yells, snapping the reins.

_**ERIK**_

"Oh, God, I can't breathe," gasps Meg. "I think I might vomit… There's no way I can do this. Erik, cancel it! Cancel the show, now!"

"Easy, sweetheart," Tom croons, massaging her back. "They're gonna love you. Everything will be fine."

"You're beautiful," Sorina says sweetly, smoothing down Meg's diamond necklace. "Even Stela thinks so."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. It's obvious."

"You don't know anything, Rina."

"Do so!"

"Ugggh!" Meg wails.

"Nervous?" Gustave asks, flawlessly placing himself into the conversation. Sorina glances over at him shyly and he smiles back. Stela lets out a huff as the trio guides them to the box I had made specifically for them. "Break a leg, Meg!"

"Oh, I wish I could!" she moans.

"Come on, you'll be fine." I leave her in Tom's hands and locate the children. Sorina is sitting between her sister and Gustave, a clear barrier of human flesh between the two of them. The only two empty seats are beside Gustave, so, trying to be diplomatic, I pull both of them behind the three occupied seats. Stela shoots me a look of daggers for my efforts, which I ignore. The lights go out, save for a single icy white one on Meg. With a black silk robe covering her costume, she looks almost invisible.

"The French are glad to die for love," she sings softly, "they delight in fighting duels! But I prefer a man who lives…. and gives expensive jewels." Immediately, the stage explodes with color and excitement as she tosses away the robe, revealing her diamond-covered costume.

"A kiss on the hand may be quite continental, but diamonds are a girl's best friend! A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat, or help you feed your pussy cat! Men grow cold as girls grow old, and we all lose are charms in the end, but square cut or pear shaped, these rocks don't lose their shape! Diamonds are a girl's best friend!" Not a step, not a hair out of place... the routines are flawless, and the audience is adoring every minute of it.

"Tiffany's!" One of the girls tosses up a faux-diamond bracelet that Meg easily catches and kisses, before turning to snatch up another. "Cartier!"

"Because we're living in a material world, and I am a material girl!" Meg blows them a kiss and vaults neatly into the aisle, whooping with glee. "Come and get me, boys! Black star, Ross Core! TALK TO ME, HARRY WINSTON! TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT! There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer, but diamond's are a girls best friend! There may come a time when, hard boiled employer thinks you're awful nice, but get that ice or else no dice! He's your guy when stocks are high, but beware when they start to descend! It's then that those louses go back to their spouses! Diamonds are a girl's... Best... Friend!" The curtain drops with a final blast of the trumpets and the crowd goes wild.

"It was perfect!" Gustave gasps out between whistles and whoops. "Every bit of it! Not too showy or trashy...you're a genius, Papa!"

_Papa_...he's never called me that before. Raoul was "Papa," I was "Father." Now, he's grinning up at me as though it's the most natural thing in the world.

_Papa_. "Erik! For God's sake, listen to me!" Tom interrupts. "We just got an urgent message from Bellevue Hospital!" That immediately gets my attention. "Oh, God... is it?"

"Christine. She's gone in early."

"No..." Something inside of me snaps. If she dies now...After everything...only to bring his child into the world... NO! "I'm leaving things in your hands, Tom. Gustave, come with me."

"But I want to stay!"

"Your mother needs us."

_**CHRISTINE**_

_Oh, God, is there no one with me?_ "Make it stop!" I scream as fire courses through my veins. It was not half so painful to deliver Gustave, but this... I would almost prefer hell to this. "You're killing me! You're killing me!" One of the doctors says something, but I can't hear it... I'm getting sucked back into that awful night...the night it all went wrong...

**"Haven't you had enough blood yet?" I sobbed as he threw me roughly to the ground. "Or am I to be your next victim?"**

**"You brought this on yourself," he answered coldly. "Were it not for this abomination...this infection...you would have been mine. All of this could have been avoided. But instead, I wallow in blood. I cannot know the joys of a woman's love... only hatred... even from the woman who bore me... 'Put on your mask, Erik, you repulsive little monster!' God forbid I ever be loved!"**

**"Erik…" His name felt foreign on my lips. "I…"**

**"Save your pity!" He jammed the veil onto my head with such force that I winced. "Your fate has been decided, Christine Daaé. And it is I."**

_I want him… I need him… I need someone to help me… It all hurts so much…_ I can hear voices at the feverish edge of my mind. Angels? Are they calling me to heaven? Why now? "Christine, come back to us…"

"Mother, it's over."

"Please… don't leave me now…." Slowly my eyes flicker open to see Erik staring down at me, his face heavily bandaged. I remember vaguely him making some comment about that being how he travels the streets safely.

"E….Erik?"

"Oh, thank God," he gasps, claiming my lips with a kind of desperate hunger. "We were afraid the twins and Gustave would be left without a mother."

"You don't mean Stela and Sorina, do you?"

"No, we don't." Meg's sweet, smiling face comes into view, holding two wrapped bundles. "Take a look. They're precious."

"Oh…." I take one of them in my arms. A pair of dark eyes stares up at me… Eyes like his. "Both boys?"

"No. Fraternal twins," Erik answers calmly. If he suffers at all to see me holding Raoul's child, he's concealing it very well.

"Gustave… I hope you have your siblings' names picked out."

"He's Richard. Richard Gaston. And she's Élisabeth Marguerite—"

"Carriere." Erik interrupts. I nearly drop Richard. "Gustave was raised a de Chagny. They will be members of the Carriere family."

"When the time comes," I say softly. He nods, acknowledging his slight slip-up.

"Mother, don't you want to see Élisabeth?"

"In a minute, darling. I'm tired."

"I'll have one of the nurses put them to bed. Thank god you finished after Coney closed for the night…" Meg sighed, scratching her head before taking Richard from me. "Oh, that headdress hurts…. Come on, Gustave." He gives me one last glance before following her out with Élisabeth in his arms. Erik and I are alone.

"I thought for certain you were going to die."

"There was a moment when I thought I might…"

"Now what? Time has gone by faster than either of us expected —"

"Erik, I'm happy with where we are now. We can wait another eight months. It's only right."

"I love you," he whispers, kissing my hand.

"And I love you. Please, Erik, for my sake. Wait just a little longer. You promised. Please, for me."

"As you wish, my songbird." He kisses me gently. "Rest now. We'll be back later."

"I don't doubt it."

* * *

A/N: Am I doing okay? Please review and let me know!


	13. Let Me Hear You Sing Once More

A/N: We finally get to hear Christine sing in this one, and she's singing two songs. The first is my lyrics to Love Never Dies, and the second is Meadowlark, a Stephen Schwartz song Sarah Brightman performs on her album "The Songs That Got Away." I love that song. A lot. And it's quite Phantom-esque to my mind. You'll understand when you get to it.

_**GUSTAVE**_

"EYAAAAH!" Two part harmony is charming, but not when it's coming in in the form of my two wailing half-siblings. Rubbing my eyes, I make my way down to Mother's room.

"Mother…"

"I know, I know…" Mother groans, already out of bed and grabbing her robe. "Twins, for the love of God… Is this some kind of divine punishment for all that infidelity?"

"Mother, you love them, and you know it."

She sighs heavily. "Yes, I do. I love all three of you, but honestly, Gustave, you were never half this much trouble."

"Well, there are two of them," Papa interrupts. Mother and I both turn to see him lolling on the windowsill.

"Erik!" Mother blushes violently. "For God's sake, why do you always pick the most inopportune moments to appear?"

"They happen to be the only moments when I can escape my own set of twins, that's all," he answers jovially. "I take what I can."

"You're in a good mood, Papa."

"I finished a new composition today, and I feel exhilarated! At last, my abilities have returned! No longer will I compose only vaudeville drivel to satisfy the public! Culture will come to New York! In the form of Christine Daaé!" Without any warning, he whirls Mother into a waltz, laughing gleefully.

"Erik! Put me doooown! I'm still holding Élisabeth! Eriiiiiiik!" As she shrieks in both shock and delight, I pluck Élisabeth out of her hands and set my baby sister back down in the crib next to Richard. Both of them are staring at the adults intently. "Please!"

"The season's almost over. Please, say you'll sing at the closing. Or tomorrow. You do remember what tomorrow is, don't you?" He winks at me.

"How could she forget with me reminding her every day? Tomorrow is–"

"The seventeenth of July, I know, dear." Mother interrupts.

"The twins are turning eleven."

"I know, dear."

"Father and I have been planning this for ages."

"I know, dear," she repeats, for the third time, beginning to get exasperated. "As you said, you've brought it up every single day. It's late and I have every intention of getting back to sleep right now. Erik, don't even think about following me."

"Such coldness, ma chérie." He sighs tragically. "But I suppose I shall go if I must, for how can I refuse _la reine de mon coeur_?"

"Don't give me that, Erik. A year, remember? You've got another six months of waiting." She pushes him away playfully. "Excuse me now…"

We wait until she's gone before speaking again. "Did you get the twins anything else for their birthday, Papa?"

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow, Gustave…" He looks out over the city's silhouette. "This is the first time I'll actually be celebrating any birthday. I never had one of my own, you know… Never a happy birthday."

"Tell me about Grandmother, Papa?"

"No, Gustave. I prefer not to think of her. She was different from your mother in every way imaginable," he sighs lightly. "When I think of how much everything has changed…"

"For the better, right, Papa?"

"I should like to think so. I have you. Your mother. The twins… both sets of them." We both laugh. "That did make things a little more complicated, didn't it?"

"You like them," I argue, grinning at him as I tousle Richard's hair. He smiles up at us in his toothless manner and Élisabeth follows suit.

"Indeed, I do."

_THE NEXT DAY_

"Wake up! Wake up!" I open my eyes to see Stela and Sorina standing at the foot of my bed. Stela, as usual, is pouting in disdain, but Sorina wears a rapt smile on her face. "It's our birthday, Gustave!" she chirps gleefully.

"It's so early," I mumble. My tongue feels dry, like the pads of Ayesha's paws.

"Of course it's early! Erik's opening up the park just for the three of us, no one else, and we need to get there as soon as we can if we want to see everything! Hurry up and get dressed!"

"Not in front of you!"

_**CHRISTINE**_

To sing again….Oh, God, I want it so badly, and yet standing here, I am, sitting in a dressing room of the Metropolitan Opera House, and I just want to run. It's been too long… far too long… The year is almost over… Soon, Erik and I will be able to be together without fear… and yet, I'm still so scared.

"You'll be magnificent. You always are," he says from the doorway.

"The twins…"

"Are with Meg and Thomas. Breathe, Christine."

"What if I'm not good anymore? What if they hate me?" I'm starting to panic

"No one could ever hate you."

"Carlotta did," I pointed out.

"Carlotta never liked anyone," he retorts.

"Except Piangi."

"Really, must you bring that up, Christine?"

"Keep talking, Erik. Distract me."

"Is that all this is?"

"If I don't, I think I might faint." I feel his cool fingers kneading into my shoulders, trying to get me to relax. "Sing to me," I beg.

He does, the same song from all those months ago. "In moments, mere moments, drums will roll. There you'll stand, just like before. The crowd will hush, and then, in one sweet rush, I will hear you sing once more. And music, our music, will swell and then unwind, like two strands of melody, at last entwined! Fulfill us, complete us, make us whole! Seal our bond, forevermore! Tonight, for me, embrace your destiny! Let me hear you sing once more!" He kisses me one more time before heading out. "Mme. de Chagny is ready now, sir. I'll be going back to my seat."

"Thank you, Mr. Carriere. Enjoy the performance," the stage manager says.

"I do believe I will."

_**ERIK**_

"Don't keep spinning, you'll get dizzy!" Stela snaps, grabbing her sister's arm to stop Sorina's delighted twirling.

"I can't help it!" Sorina squeals, pulling out the ruffled chiffon skirt. "It's all so pretty!"

"Girls, you still have a certain amount of decorum to maintain," Meg scolds, shifting Richard in her arms. Nearby, Tom is giving Élisabeth a piggyback ride.

"That's enough," I interrupt. Gustave finally looks up from wringing his hands. "Come on, we need to get to our box."

"I've never seen mother perform," he mumbles. "Not like this."

"You're in for a treat," Meg says at the exact same time I do. The twins giggle, diffusing the tension immensely as we make our way to the box. The curtain parts, and Christine is standing there, the stage bare but for a single spotlight on her.

_"Can we ever forget_

_The love that we once felt?_

_Can we escape the fate_

_That life, to us, has dealt?_

_I don't believe we can_

_I know my words are true_

_For I can't go a day_

_Without remembering you._

_Say you don't love me,_

_And turn me away._

_No matter what you do,_

_My love for you will stay."_

It is the song I wrote, but not the words...who changed them? I look to Gustave and he smiles guiltily. This was his work.

_"My heart is yours_

_Now and forever_

_Though we may part,_

_I stay with you_

_We have a bond_

_No-one can sever_

_We cannot turn_

_From what we knew_

_We cannot turn_

_From what we knew."_

I can't be sure of whether to be proud or insulted…. But all the same, I know these words are meant for me… and for him. For Raoul.

_"Can we choose our own paths_

_And not regret our choice?_

_If life does not have you,_

_My heart cannot rejoice._

_Forgive me all my sins_

_Return me to your grace_

_For if you stand by me,_

_There' nothing I can't face._

_Love is forever,_

_So did we change?_

_Why must we be subject_

_To something strong and strange?"_

She pauses, looking down at her hands. I cannot guess what she is thinking, but I have a feeling it is guilt. Then, she starts again, stronger than before.

_"My heart is yours,_

_Forevermore._

_Come, take my hand,_

_Say you will lead me._

_Share with me morning,_

_Night, and day..._

_Say that you love me…"_

Her voice has reached its pinnacle… Never, never have I heard it like this…

_"Without your love,_

_Life has no meaning._

_Give me your heart,_

_For mine is yours._

_Love never dies._

_Make ours immortal!_

_Let me be with you_

_Evermore._

_Let me be with you,_

_I am yours."_

All those years, all the waiting… it was all worth it. We are all on our feet, cheering wildly. Sorina makes an exclamation of awe in Romany to her sister, who shrugs noncommittally, the closest she's ever gotten to positive commentary. Meg is crying into Tom's shoulder. Perfection, sheer perfection. I am whole again. Christine starts into the next song, yet I barely hear it, as I am still reeling from the first.

_"When I was a girl, I had a favorite story_

_Of the meadowlark who lived where the rivers wind_

_Her voice could match the angels' in its glory,_

_But she was blind,_

_The lark was blind."_

_An old king came and took her to his palace,_

_Where the walls were burnished bronze and golden braid,_

_And he fed her fruit and nuts from an ivory chalice and he prayed_

_"Sing for me, my meadowlark_

_Sing for me of the silver morning._

_Set me free, my meadowlark_

_And I'll buy you a priceless jewel,_

_And cloth of brocade and crewel,_

_And I'll love you for life if you will_

_Sing for me."_

_Than one day as the lark sang by the water_

_The god of the sun heard her in his flight_

_And her singing moved him so, he came and brought her_

_The gift of sight,_

_He gave her sight._

_And she opened her eyes to the shimmer and the splendour_

_Of this beautiful young god, so proud and strong_

_And he called to the lark in a voice both rough and tender,_

_"Come along,_

_Fly with me, my meadowlark,_

_Fly with me on the silver morning._

_Past the sea where the dolphins bark,_

_We will dance on the coral beaches,_

_Make a feast of the plums and peaches,_

_Just as far as your vision reaches,_

_Fly with me."_

_But the meadowlark said no,_

_For the old king loved her so,_

_She couldn't bear to wound his pride._

_So the sun god flew away and when the king came down that day,_

_He found his meadowlark had died._

_Every time I heard that part I cried._

_And now I stand here, starry-eyed and stormy._

_Oh, just when I thought my heart was finally numb,_

_A beautiful young man appears before me_

_Singing "Come_

_Oh, won't you come?"_

_And what can I do if finally for the first time_

_The one I'm burning for returns the glow?_

_If love has come at last it's picked the worst time_

_Still I know_

_I've got to go._

_Fly away, meadowlark._

_Fly away in the silver morning._

_If I stay, I'll grow to curse the dark,_

_So it's off where the days won't bind me._

_I know I leave wounds behind me,_

_But I won't let tomorrow find me_

_Back this way._

_Before my past once again can blind me,_

_Fly away._

_And we won't wait to say goodbye,_

_My beautiful young man and I."_

There are a myriad more songs, though what they are I cannot be sure. I am lost solely in the pleasure of knowing that she is singing for me. _Only for me. After all this time, I finally have her… and one day, soon… she will be my wife._

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? REVIEW! PLEASE!


	14. Seal Our Bond Forevermore

A/N: Greetings to all. Now, lessee, where'd I leave off….oh, yes…. Everything appears to be looking up. I'll have to remedy that, won't I? Oh, I am a despicable human being, aren't I?

XxXxX

_**CHRISTINE**_

"What's wrong?"

"Hmmmm?" I look up from the old storybook I used to read with Papa to see Gustave sitting by his piano.

"Something's troubling you, Mother, I can tell. It's hard not to notice, you've been so much happier these past—"

"Six months?"

"Oh…." he says quietly, realizing. "You're worried about Papa?"

"No, darling, not worried about him. It's just...guilt, I guess. I keep worrying this all too soon."

"Then why did you say a year?"

"I… I was testing him…." I let out a heavy sigh. "It's awful, I know… but after everything…the night beneath the Opéra, that performance… I just wanted to make sure that this time, he'd actually respect—"

"Oh, I see." Oh, no. Sure enough, he's standing there, a very sour look on his face.

"Erik, I—"

"Still don't trust me?" he interrupts sharply. "And tell me, Christine, what reason have I for trusting you? You've betrayed my trust, too!"

"There were only two times, and both of them were because of YOUR lies!"

"Mother—"

"Not now, Gustave!" Erik and I yell simultaneously.

"Yes, now!" he says firmly. "Both of you are at fault, but you're never going to be together if you keep getting into stupid fights about who betrayed who! Put it aside, for my sake and the twins' sake, if for nothing else! _BECAUSE NONE OF US WANT TO HEAR IT_!" Both of us are rendered speechless by him. Then, Erik sighs.

"I am sorry, my dove."

"Oh, Erik, so am I."

"Can this be the end of it?" Gustave asks. "No more bringing up what happened on any of the nights in question?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, I'm going to meet Meg, Tom and the others at Coney. Can you two please finish up without killing each other?" He slams the door without waiting for an answer.

_**ERIK**_

Rendered speechless by my twelve year-old son…. Not many people can do that… Impressive. I wander over to the liquor cabinet.

"Erik, please, don't…." Christine whimpers. I realize who I have to be reminding her of.

"Christine, I merely wanted to toast tonight." Her eyes widen. "Why do you think I came here?"

"Erik, this is all going so fast…" I can tell her heart is racing… She's scared to see that gleaming onyx stone from the night I ruined everything. "_Amor nunquam moritur_," I whisper, slipping my hand into hers. When I pull my hand away, the copper-gold band is nestled in her palm, the lilac-tinted diamond winking in the lamplight. "You don't need to answer now."

"Yes," she murmurs softly, so quiet I almost don't hear it. I turn to look at her, and she's crying and smiling at the same time. "Yes, Erik, I will."

_NEW YORK TIMES_

_June 25, 1909_

_What Will Be Daaé's New Name?_

_Internationally acclaimed soprano, Christine Daaé de Chagny, has recently been spotted about Fifth Avenue accompanied by her friend and colleague, Meg Giry Winterfield, better known as the Coney Island Diamond. Their object? Visiting dress makers, specifically those involved in the production of matrimonial attire. This is not entirely unexpected, as the Vicomte de Chagny left his widow and children with very little financial support, and Daaé's career as a singer cannot hope to sustain a family with three children, two in infancy. The main question is, who is the singer's intended? _Tom stops reading and grins. "They're on to us."

"Send a message to the papers to keep it subdued from now on. Christine does not need any more exposure."

"Right away, Erik." He heads over to the telephone, then smirks at me. "Nervous about tomorrow?"

"Terrified."

"Don't be. You're going to be a great father. You already are to the twins."

"That's not the same."

"Of course it is. Now will you calm down?"

"No. I can't. I've always dreamed of this, Tom…. Now that it's coming… I don't know if I can do this."

"How can you if you keep doubting yourself?" he points out. "You are your own worst critic, you know."

"Spare me the philosophies. I need a brandy."

"Christine won't like that."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"Can't you save it for tomorrow?"

"No."

"Erik, come on…. Let's get you into bed. You're going to need rest."

"Oh, thank you, Mother," I say sarcastically.

"Your sincerity is overwhelming."

"You say that as though I should care." It's getting to the point where I'm just being rude, but Tom is taking it in stride and I see no reason to stop.

"Erik, stop being difficult."

"Who's being difficult?"

"You...you…"

"I'm home!" Meg calls cheerfully from downstairs. The twins run down from their room, grinning widely. "Wait, not at the same tiiiiiiiime!" Meg's screams echo through the house, presumably from being tackled by the twins. "You're going to ruin your dresses, girls!"

"You got them!" Sorina squeals.

"Yes, I did. Now, move aside so I can take them upstairs."

"Can't we wear them now?"

"No, Sorina," Meg says. "But you can grab the box with my dress and help me get these upstairs."

"I'll do it."

"Thank you, Stela. You know, I'm glad to see this recent change of attitude in you. Is the absence of Gustave what brought it on?"

"That's ridiculous!"

"You're blushing!" Sorina squeals.

"I am not!" Stela retorts hotly.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Tom quotes, leaning over the railing to see them. "Now, then, Meg, would you mind seeing if you can get through the thick skull of tomorrow's leading man?"

"He's nervous again?" Meg groans. "I'm coming. Girls? Get the boxes, alright?" The twins giggle and run off in another direction. "Now, then, Erik. You, come here."

"No," I grumble.

"Get."

"No."

"Erik, I'm going to count to three. When I do, you will be standing in from of me. Understand?"

"Meg—"

"One… Everyone gets cold feet, Erik. Two…. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Three…. I'm about to get mad. Christine and I have been going through fittings all day, and I am exhausted, as was she. She is currently asleep in her room, expecting a very special day tomorrow, and if you disappoint her, I think I will be sorely tempted to kill you."

"Meg, I'm really not scared of you."

"YOU TAKE THAT BAAAACK!" she screams, running up the stairs and laughing as her fists fly at me. "TAKE IT BACK, TAKE IT BACK, TAKE IT BACK!"

"TOM! A LITTLE HELP HERE!"

"Oh, no, you're on your own, Erik."

"Gyaah!" I yell as Meg finally knocks me to the ground.

"TA-ACKLE!" the twins cheer, running in and jumping on top of the two of us.

**_CHRISTINE_**

"Oh, Meg," I sigh as she pulls the laces of my corset closed. "What if—"

"I don't want to hear another word," she interrupts. "Honestly, Christine, between you and Erik, I'll become the next Sigmund Freud."

"God forbid!" I laugh breathlessly. "The beard would not flatter you in the least, and I think Tom prefers his wife the way she is."

"And Erik loves you just the way you are, so stop fussing! Remember, you two agreed. No more."

"But, Meg, I—"

"No."

"Can I—"

"No."

"Kill me now."

"No, Christine. Erik would kill me, and I value my own life too much."

"I am beg—"

"No."

"Somebody!"

"Kristina Annika Daaé, you stop right now," she orders, using my full name in its original Swedish. "This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life."

"Oh, well, I've heard that before."

"Let it go."

"I'm trying!"

"No, you're not. Breathe. Think about him."

"I'm going to faint."

"Should I loosen the corset?"

"No, I'm fine. Just give me a moment. I'll be fine." I slowly take a breath. "I'm ready." Her eyes travel over me, grinning.

"Yes, you are."

**_GUSTAVE_**

"Er… Gustave?" I look up from dangling a sweet in front of Élisabeth. Sorina is standing before me shyly, shifting back and forth on her heels. On the dance floor, my newly married parents are whirling around, clearly with eyes only for each other. Meg and Tom are playing with Richard and Stela is in the midst of reading the palms of the trio. "Would you mind terribly if we were to dance?"

"I don't really dance, Sorina."

"You do now!" She grabs my hand, trying to pull me out of my seat. "I'll show you how my people celebrate!"

"But my sister…." Sorina's lip starts trembling.

"Please?"

"I can't!"

"Of course you can," Meg interrupts, plucking Élisabeth from my hands. "Don't be so ungallant, Gustave! Go on!" I want to protest, but Sorina pulls me out onto the dance floor and starts clapping in rhythm while singing in Romany. Stela looks up eagerly and starts singing with her twin. Before long, our small gathering, this private celebration of my parents' love has transformed into a robust dance. And I'm at the center of it, adoring every moment.


	15. The Heart Never Lies

A/N: I have to admit, I… for lack of a better word, copied the idea of Jennifer Linforth, author of the impressive Madrigal trilogy. Spoiler alert/explanation: In the third book, Erik has a son with a normal face, but his daughter is hideously deformed, and mad besides. That's where the inspiration for Madeleine came from. This is going to be a short, but sweet chapter.

* * *

_May 17, 1915_

**_CHRISTINE_**

"How much longer until Gustave gets home?" Sorina asks

"Gustave, Gustave, always Gustave! For almost eight years, nothing but Gustave!" Stela groans.

"You say his name in your sleep!" Élisabeth giggles from the piano. Richard tugs at one of her braids, making her shriek. Little Madeleine toddles up towards them, reaching out her arms to Richard.

"Richard, up! I wanna play pretty!" she yells. Richard laughs and puts her on the bench so she can bang her meaty fists on the keys.

"For the love of God, Madeleine, enough!" Erik scolds. Madeleine turns her face to him, sticking out her lower lip, and I see the pain in Erik's eyes. The pain that appears every time he looks at his daughter. Madeleine blinks at him, completely innocent. "Papa has a headache, sweeting," he says gently. Liar. Knowing him for eighteen years, married for seven of them… I feel, sometimes, I know him better than himself.

"Okay, Papa!" She bounces off the bench towards the window. "He's here! He's here!"

"Gustave!" Sorina gasps, hurriedly fiddling with her hair.

"You look fine, stop it," Stela huffs, planting herself firmly on the piano, stroking one of Ayesha's kittens. "Just go see him already." Sorina and the three children are out the door without a moment's hesitation.

"Christine? Are you coming?" Erik asks, lingering by the door.

"In a moment." He gives a small nod and heads after the children.

"What, you don't want to see him?" Stela asks haughtily.

"For seven years now, Stela, I've put up with your slights at my son. And now, I want to know why."

"Typical. You're trying to solve his problems for him."

"That's not true!"

"He's a blind idiot just like you were!" That hits a nerve.

"You have no right to say that!"

"Tell me it's a lie! I dare you, tell me it's a lie!"

"Stela…" It's all clear now. "You love him."

"From the very first. But all he sees is my sister."

"I"m sorry…."

"Save your pity." She pulls a letter out of her pocket. "I'm going to England on the next ship over. To be a ballerina in the Royal London Opera. Erik doesn't know."

"He'll be worried sick!"

"So? He's made it clear he likes Sorina better."

"Maybe that's because you shut all of us out!"

"That's the Romany way for outsiders."

"But we're not outsiders, we're family."

"No, we're not. We never will be."

"Not if you keep acting like this. The choice is yours, Stela. You'll only ever be alone if you keep this up."

"It's better that way. Go away."

* * *

**_GUSTAVE_**

"Okay, yes, I'm very glad to see you all, now, can I please have a moment with Sorina?" Élisabeth giggles and whispers something to Madeleine, who joins in with the giggles. "Hey! Hey, that's not it! Dad, Richard, will you please do something about them?" Father chuckles a little, but shepherds my siblings out.

"Gustave, I have something I need to say to you, too, " Sorina blurts once we're alone.

"Then you go first."

"My sister…. You need to stop her. I've seen her, running, hungry and alone, in fire…."

"I thought your visions aren't always right."

"This one will be if you don't tell her."

"Tell her what?"

She rolls her eyes. "Maybe she was right. You are an idiot, at least when it comes to love. She loves you."

"What? But I thought you—"

"No. Twins are very alike but not identical. She's the one who cares for you." I'm genuinely surprised. I thought she hated me. "Please, you must stop her."

"Sorina, I was trying to say goodbye. I've enlisted in the army."

"You've WHAT?" _Oh, merde. Mother._ "Gustave, what have you done?" Her voice is shrill and her face white.

"Mother, please, listen. All of Europe has gotten pulled in, now America. We have no other choice, the President has opened enlistment, and I'm going."

"You will go back there and take your name off that list at once, Gustave!"

"Mother, I'm eighteen years old now. You can't tell me what to do."

"Erik! Erik!" she screams, running back into the tower. "ERIK!"

* * *

_**ERIK**_

I hear her screams and immediately assume the worst is happening. "Christine!" She hits my torso, still running, and sobbing. "Christine, what is it?"

"He's going to die!" she sobs. "He's enlisted! He's going to die!"

"Enlisted?" No, she can't mean that…. That would mean… "GUSTAVE!" He and Sorina enter the doorway, a look of extreme guilt on his face and one of puzzlement on hers. "Your mother had better have misunderstood what she heard from you, young man."

"She didn't misunderstand, Dad. I've enlisted in the army, and none of you can stop me. But, please. Before you get mad at me, hear me out. I'm doing this for our family. For Madeleine, and the twins. It's better if I go of my own free will. I'd have been conscripted if we were back in France."

"You can't, you can't," Christine sobs into my chest. "Erik, tell him he can't!"

"Christine…" It's out of my hands."

"No one is ever going to accept Madeleine in a world where the Triple Alliance has won," Gustave says emphatically. "Dad, you know that!" His words find their mark. He knows Madeleine is my weak point. "Please, Dad. Let me go."

"Make sure you come back alive."

"What? Erik, no! No, you can't!"

"Christine, please—"

"You won't come back!" she screams, running up towards the aerie. "You won't come back!"

"Mother—"

"She'll see reason soon enough, Gustave. I understand why you felt it necessary. I do not agree with it, but I understand."

"You don't believe I'll come home alive."

"I believe there are no guarantees when it comes to war. A man may just as easily die as he may live. But I trust you, my son. I believe you will do all you can to survive. Am I wrong?"

"No, sir."

"Good. I'd better hunt down your mother now. And you need to talk to someone, I believe." He blushes furiously and stares at the ground.

"Where's Stela?" he mumbles, and I cannot help but smile. He's finally realized.

_XxXxX_

"Leaving!"

"Stela, please, listen. I'm asking you to wait for me…."

"Ask my sister. She's the one—"

"No."

"No, what?"

"She's not!"

"They've been at it for hours now," Sorina says cheerfully as she sketches a picture of her latest idea for a costume. "It's a sign. They really do love each other."

"And you never did?" Christine asks.

"Sun and moon cannot share one sky at the same time," Sorina says cryptically. "I saw it from the start. But Stela is so stubborn. She needs a push, yes?"

"I suppose so," Christine murmurs.

"He is not an idiot. She hides too much, and still expects everyone to see. That is the Romany way. Romany people, we know things. She expects that to be true for everyone. But it is not."

"You continue to amaze me, Sorina. I thought your sight was limited to—"

"My visions? No. My eyes see what they must. It is that simple. That is what having the Sight means."

"Fascinating. Erik, you never—"

"Fortune telling never held much interest for me, my love, I was so certain I knew what my fate was, I didn't bother learning more."

"Shh!" Sorina chides. "Listen! They're not talking anymore." Christine allows the smallest of smiles to appear on her face.

"So they aren't."

* * *

_**GUSTAVE**_

"Come back soon," Stela urges, kissing me lightly.

"You just like seeing me in uniform," I tease. She is my last goodbye before shipping out. My family bid farewell last night. But this one is hardest.

"Shut up, you idiot gorgio," she laughs through her tears.

"That's my Stela."

"You promise, then?"

"If you promise me something."

"Anything."

I smile and press the red velvet box into her hand. "When I come back, marry me." Without waiting for an answer, I kiss her once more and run up the gangplank. I hear her shouting a single word just as the anchor is hoisted.

"Yes!"

* * *

You all thought it was gonna be Sorina, right? Hahaha! Gotcha!


	16. Wonder What's Behind Its Gates

_Dear Stela:_

_I'm always cold. France seems so different from when I left it. I can barely get any sleep, because if I do, I'm worried I'll never wake up. We all live in fear that we'll get gassed, we're almost afraid to breathe. Every gunshot makes me tense, worrying it's going to hit me._

_I miss everyone so much. My siblings, my parents, you. Have you gotten anything from Meg and Tom lately? How are things for them in California? Write to me again soon, please. Please, I'm begging you. I need to see colors of home. Words are my only lifeline from these attacks. Please, Stela, please._

_Yours,_

_Gustave_

**_MADELEINE_**

Élisabeth and Richard are singing in the practice room, and Stela and Sorina are talking with Mamma and Papa about something. I'm alone, and this is my chance. I'm never allowed off Coney Island. I start down the stairs of the tower. Just out the door, and then to the ferry. "Madeleine? What are you doing?"

"Er, nothing, Mamma."

"You know your father and I don't like you leaving the aerie, cherie."

"Mamma, please, I want to go outside!"

"Absolutely not. It's not safe."

"Why?"

"Madeleine, do not be impertinent."

"Why can't I go outside? Élisabeth can. Richard can. Stela and Sorina can. Why can't I? Tell me!" I pound my fists on her skirts.

"Madeleine, enough!"

"Papa…"

"Erik, you know she can't go!"

"You said the same thing about Gustave!" I yell. "I want to go outside!" Papa sighs heavily.

"Madeleine. Come upstairs. The two of us need to talk."

"No."

"Madeleine Isabelle Carriere, now." Papa's voice takes on that scary tone that no one can refuse. I follow him mutely upstairs. "Sit." He points at my little stool, and I sink down on to it. "We've kept you from this long enough, Madeleine. You've only seen my face one time, and you were a baby. You screamed so loudly, I decided then and there to keep you from it ever again. I was wrong. You're five now, you're old enough to know. It will be gentler than how I learned, I can promise that. But I cannot guarantee that you will like what you see."

"See what? My face? What is wrong with my face, Papa?" He turns away and takes off the white mask only he has to wear. "Papa?" He turns back and I can't say anything. How can I, when I'm seeing pieces of my papa's own brain exposed…

"Do you want me to put it back on?" he asks. I can't answer… I'm too busy staring at his swollen lips, the twisted skin….

"Is that what I am?" I ask quietly.

"I'm afraid so, petite. I am so very sorry."

"Am I going to get a mask someday?"

"I pray it will not come to that. You are my daughter, and I love you, Madeleine. No matter what."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now, come with me, I want to show you something."

"Erik…"

"She'll be with me, Christine. Don't worry so much."

"You're not taking her down there, are you?"

"It's time she learned."

"She's too young."

"Am not! I'm four! Almost five!"

"I was five when I learned."

"Yes, and look how well you turned out," Mamma says huffily. "But I know I can never change your mind, so I'm simply going to hold you responsible for any mental damage our daughter suffers because of it."

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming, ma rossignol. Now, come along, Madeleine." He pulls me along as Mamma heads back upstairs.

"Where are we going, Papa?"

"To a secret place. Your Mamma and I are the only ones who know about this. But now, it's time you learned about them, too."

"Is it scary?"

"No, not exactly," he says, picking me up. "What it is, Madeleine, is a chapter of our family's story that most people would try to forget. It is not pretty. Not at all. But the world is not pretty either. Do you understand?"

"I think so, Papa. I don't know. I'm only four."

"You're a big girl. You said so yourself."

"Not that big. But I want to know!"

"Then you must be brave in here. Alright?" All this time, he's been carrying me down a set of stairs I didn't even know were there.

"Alright, Papa. But where are we?"

"This is where I store everything of your grandmére Madeleine's."

"Madeleine? My name?"

"Yes. Your mamma always was surprised that I chose that name for you, given how much I hated my mother."

"You hated your mamma? Why?"

"Because she didn't love me."

"Aren't mammas supposed to love you? No matter what?"

"Your grandmother didn't really think so." He sets me down and pulls out a set of keys to unlock the door. "I always get these muddled up…."

"Is it the one shaped like an M?"

"Ah. Yes. Good catch, little one." He sticks the key in the lock and opens the door. Almost immediately, I sneeze.

"It's really dusty in here, Papa."

"I don't move these around very much," he says, turning on a gaslight. I see a big bed, a few armchairs, and a rug with a big splotch.

"What's that?" I point to the splotch curiously.

"That, my little one, is from when Sasha and I ate a full box of your grandmother's chocolates, and proceeded to vomit them all back up."

"Who's Sasha?"

"My only friend… our dog…"

"What happened to Sasha?"

He sighs, really sad. "Sasha died trying to protect me."

"Died?"

"Well, actually, the village boys killed her."

"Why?"

"They hated me. She loved me. They saw her as an enemy because of it."

"That's not fair, Papa."

"No, petite, it is not fair. But life is not fair. Especially when you don't look like everyone else does."

I look down for a minute at the stain, then ask him, "What happened next?"

"I ran away from home."

"All by yourself?"

"Yes. Your grandmother…. I could tell she was unhappy, and… she was falling in love with someone… a man who wanted me sent to an asylum."

"What's an asylum?"

"It's a place where they keep people who are mad."

"Angry?"

"No, not angry…. Crazy. Insane."

"You're not crazy, Papa."

"I know. But I am… not like everyone else. And this man thought I would be better there…"

"That's not—"

"Madeleine, do not make me say it again. Life is not fair. The sooner you learn this, the easier it will make things for the rest of your life."

"Papa…" He looks so cold and angry, he's never like this… Suddenly, a white shape flutters by the couch. "Papa, please, I'm scared… I want to leave here…"

"Go, then. I…. I plan to stay here a while longer."

**_ERIK_**

I wait until she's gone. My poor little Madeleine…. However kindly her mother and I might treat her, we are still her jailers. What are we going to do when she gets older? She deserves the same as her brothers and sister… But how….

* * *

A/N: Oh my, I rather think Erik's thinking. Nothing but good can come of this! *winks*


	17. Coney Isle, Miracle on Miracle

_**MADELEINE**_

"Come on, Maddy, up we go!"

"Richard, I don't want to play today!"

"What is wrong with you?" Élisabeth asks, resorting her music. "Usually you want to play all the time—"

"—and we can never use the piano when we need to, because you're making a racket," Richard finishes.

"Here's a thought. Why don't you two, for _ONE DAY_, try not to complete each other's sentences?" Stela asks. "Sorina is going to be here any minute, and you know you give her headaches!"

"Well, at least we talk when we're doing it! You just do that funny thing with your eyes and confuse the rest of us!" Élisa retorts. Stela yells something in Romany, Richard answer in French, Ayesha starts meowing and Élisa bangs every key she can on the piano.

"Just as I thought." We all turn to see Sorina standing in the door. "You all have no idea how glad I am to see you!"

"Are you alright?" Stela asks, running over to clasp hands with her. "Have you heard from him?"

"No, I'm afraid not. You know it's difficult to post anything these days. The mail's getting seized and read for spies and codes…." Sorina says sadly.

"Will he live?"

"Stela, I can't say…"

"But you see things…" Élisa protests. "Please, Sorina! Is he okay? We're all worried about him."

"And I'd tell you if I knew," Sorina snaps, her pretty dark blue eyes turning ugly, like Papa when he's mad. "But I don't! So, all of you shut up!" I bury my face in Stela's skirt, whimpering.

"Now look what you've done, you scared Maddy!" Richard scolds. "Come on, Maddy, let's go get you an ice cream."

"Richard, you know she's not allowed outside," Élisa says. "Mother said so."

"To hell with what Mother said, I'm getting Maddy an ice cream, and she is spending at least one day outside of this stupid tower. Gustave would want that too. Remember? He always said—"

"You know as well as I do that he meant on a day when the park's empty!"

"Which is never in the summer, when everything actually works! You aren't going to stop me, Élisabeth!"

"But someone else might," a new voice cuts in. Richard sucks in his breath. "Richard, come here." I pull my face out of Stela's skirt to see Papa beckoning, his face completely emotionless.

"Yes, sir," Richard says, shuffling towards him.

"You want to take Madeleine out to the park?"

"Yes, sir."

"If your mother found out, she'd be very displeased with you."

"I know, sir."

"That being said, I agree that Madeleine should go out. You have one half-hour—"

"But—"

"Élisabeth, why don't we use this as an opportunity to work on your music? Ah, Sorina, welcome back. Your bags are already in your own room."

"Thank you, Erik," she says, walking over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Now, where's that nasty little kitty I love so very well? Oh, Ayesha…. Come out, come out wherever you are!"

"Come on, Maddy!" Richard grabs my hand and pulls me down the stairs. We stop outside the doors. "Go on, you do it. Your first time outside, you should have the honor."

"Alright!" I grip the handle and push out. The sunlight streams out and hits my face. "Richard…. It's so… warm."

"Are you just going to stand there, or are we actually going to do something?"

"Oh, alright, ice cream." I say, grabbing his hand. "Show me, Richard! Show me everything!"

"Wait," he covers my eyes, and starts speaking rhythmically. "Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three."

"One… Two… Three…"

As he uncovers my eyes, he starts to sing, "Come with me, and you'll be in a world of pure imagination. Take a look, and you'll see into your imagination. We'll begin," he twirls me around as we start our way into the park, " with a spin, traveling in a world of our creation! What we'll see will defy explanation!"

We run along the pier, chasing the pigeons. "If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it! Anything you want to, do it! Want to change the world? There's nothing to it…" All around us, people are yelling, laughing, kissing, screaming. "There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there, you'll be free, if you truly wish to be…" He gives me an ice cream cone, which I start licking as we continue along the pier. "If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it! Anything you want to, do it! Want to change the world? There's nothing to it…" He wins me a stuffed teddy bear at the bottle toss before we start back to the tower, and this time, I sing the final phrase with him.

"There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there, you'll be free, if you truly wish to be…"

"Back in, Maddy!" Richard says, hurrying me back inside.

"Richard, this was the best day of my life! Can we do it again sometime?"

"I'll see if we can. I had fun, too, , and listen, I think Élisa's singing!"

"Boring.," I say, huffing. "She sings all the time. She wants to be like Mamma, remember? I'm going up on the roof."

"What? No! Papa's going to kill me if I let you do that!"

"I'm going to do it anyway."

"Maddy!"

"Have fun!"

* * *

A/N: Well, that was mostly filler, but it was nice to see Maddy have some time outside. For now, however, I'm afraid we must put this on hiatus, as I've not an inkling of how to continue. Apologies, dearies!

Also: The song Richard sang is "Pure Imagination," from the Gene Wilder version of Willy Wonka. I love that song.


	18. What Am I To Do?

**_CHRISTINE_**

"Shame on you," I scold as Erik enters our room.

"I don't know what you mean, ma rossignol." He answers calmly, but his back is to me so that I cannot see his face in the reflection of my dressing table mirror.

"You let Richard take Madeleine out of the tower."

"That's ridiculous." His voice speeds up, just slightly, all the confirmation I need to know that he is lying.

"Erik, I saw them. I saw them running around the park. Madeleine had nothing covering her face, not even a scarf. What the hell were you thinking?"

"What was _I_ thinking?" He turns on me, eyes blazing, mask removed so that his features are twisted in anger. "What I was thinking, Christine, is that no child deserves to spend her life locked up in a tower like an invalid! I was thinking that you are dangerously close to falling into the same cruelty my mother showed me as a child!" His words are more painful than any slap.

"I am nothing like her and you know that, Erik!" I sob. "I love Madeleine, you know that!"

"I also know that you are inclined to play her jailer. It cannot continue like this. We cannot keep making her live in fear of something that has yet to happen. She and Richard were out there, and no one attacked her, no one hurt her. I see no reason why we need to continue like this. If she's safe anywhere, she's safe on the island." He dips his fingers into his jar of salve and rubs it across his face. "Please, chérie. A flower needs sunshine to grow."

"Erik…" I sigh in defeat. "I just wish you'd told me beforehand. I thought we were done with secrets and lies. With not being able to trust one another."

"Would you have let her go out if I had?" he points out. I hate to admit it, even to myself, but he's right. I never want Madeleine to go out, I never want her to get hurt by this world the way Erik was. I want my little girl to stay safe and with me. I don't know where Gustave is, or what might be happening to him, and I need something to cling to. My Madeleine, my little wounded bird.

"She's not wounded," he reminds me. I flush, not realizing I had spoken aloud. "And this is the problem. She's not an invalid. There is nothing wrong with her. Come to bed, alouette, and let's talk about this in the morning."

* * *

**_GUSTAVE_**

"de Chagny!" I look up to see Victor Martin hovering over my shoulder. "You missed dinner, and you know we're not supposed to miss a meal."

"I was working on something for the Colonel, I was excused." I answer.

"What, this design?"

"It's a gas mask." I rub my throat, thinking of the disgusting substance that overwhelmed many of us in the trenches yesterday. "My father's got a plant, we could mass produce from there to counter the Germans. I saw them wearing these, and I think I understand the basic idea, which means my father would even better."

"I don't understand, I thought your father was dead."

"He is. I was referring to my mother's current husband."

Victor snorts. "Your mother gets around, doesn't she? Ever heard about what happened before she married your father?"

"In great detail. And I'll put you out of action if you even attempt to smear her name, or that of my father." I growl, folding up the drawing and putting it in the envelope addressed to my parents.

"No wonder she married the man who owns Coney Island, what with her soft spot for monsters—"

"One more word and you'll be breathing out a hole in your mouth, Martin." I warn. "I'll do it, don't doubt for a second that I wouldn't."

"You think you're something, just because you've been able to gun a few men down in the time you've been here. Don't get a full head."

I haven't. But I need to assert myself, or the jokes about my family will never stop. Quick as a cat, I turn around and spring at him, twisting his left arm behind him as tightly as I can. "Take it back. All of it."

"Are you insane, de Chagny?" he yelps. I twist a little further back. "AH! Stop it!"

"Apologize." I say again. "Now."

"All right, all right! I'm sorry!" I release my grip, and he drops to the ground. "What the hell was that?"

"That was me defending my family. Pray you never have to experience me doing it again." I pick up my pen and a fresh sheet of paper. Now, leave me alone." He nods and stumbles out, rubbing his arm and cursing.

"You don't get like this very often." I turn to see Christophe, one of the youngest members of our company, sitting on his bed, playing solitaire.

"She's my mother, I love her."

"That's a bit much, even for filial devotion. You're not a killer, Gustave, but you looked just about ready to murder Victor." He reshuffles his deck and starts dealing. "Care to play me?"

"I'd be honored." I accept the deck. "And you're right. But this war… it's changing me, Christophe. All I want is to go home to my family and my fiancée."

"You've mentioned her. What's her name?"

"Stela. It means sun. And it fits her. She's beautiful, but dangerous if you get her upset. I didn't even realize it until her twin told me."

"She has a twin?" Christophe chuckles. "I'm a little jealous."

"You're bleeding," I remark, indicating his loosening grip on his card. "And I don't know if you'd be Sorina's type of man."

"I'm French, aren't I?" he jokes, wiggling his ears cheekily.

"She's not so susceptible."

"I like a challenge."

"If we get a week's leave together, I'll introduce the two of you." I place my cards down on the cot. "Twenty-one."

"Damn. Another game?"

"Ah, why not?"

* * *

A/N: Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? I think I might have my muse back!


	19. Sail Across The Sea

_**MADELEINE**_

"Sit down." Mamma taps the stool next to the table, and I do what she says. "Madeleine, do you know why I'm cross?"

"Yes, Mamma."

"And why is that?"

"Because I went outside?"

"Because you went outside behind my back." She sighs and bends down so that we're eye to eye. "Madeleine, _petite_, I'm sorry for how I've been acting. But please, understand, I only did it because I was afraid that you'd be forced to endure the same horrors your Papa did."

"But I went outside, and I was okay."

"I know, darling." She reaches out and touches my face. "That's why Papa and I agreed that from now on, you can go out on the island as often as you want."

"I can? Oh, Mamma, thank you!" I jump up and hug her tightly. Mamma laughs, and strokes my hair. "Thank you!"

"Don't be so quick to thank me, _petite_, you have to practice your scales twenty times before you go out."

"What?!"

"You heard me, young lady. Scales. Now." I make a face, but trudge over to the piano and start plucking out the notes. From the sound of her skirts swishing, I can tell Mamma has left, but I keep playing.

"Maddy, Maddy, Maddy!" Élisa runs up behind me. "What're you doooooing?" She sings the last word.

"Scales. Go away."

"Why're you doing scales? Richard and I were going to go swimming. Come with us!"

"I've got to practice first. Mamma said so."

"Oh." She makes a face. "Mamma's boring. Everyone's boring."

"If I'm boring, why are you still here?"

"Because I want you to come with us!" She bounces up and down. "Come on, stop playing!"

"Six times…" I mutter. "I have fourteen more to go."

"Fine. Richard and I will go without you." She tosses her hair and starts out the door.

"Fine!"

"Good!"

"Good!" I bang as many keys as I can before going back to work. "I hate scales…"

* * *

_**GUSTAVE**_

"Look what I have!" Christophe bursts into our tent, grinning widely. "Two tickets to New York, and our leave just coming!"

"You're coming, too?" I grin to take a look at the tickets. "Christophe, that's fantastic! But don't you have family you'd rather be visiting?"

"None whatsoever." Christophe grins impishly. "Why? You didn't want me tagging along and ruining the fun you'd be having with your fiancée?" I swat him upside the head, and we both laugh.

"Nonsense. I'm glad to have you along."

* * *

_A/N:_ I apologize for the short chapter, it's more of a transition than anything else. I promise, the muse isn't gone!


	20. Bringing You To Me

_**GUSTAVE**_

"Is all that really yours?" Christophe asks, pointing at the Coney Island skyline. "It's enormous!"

"Technically, it belongs to my father, and he's only the owner of Phantasma, not of the whole island."

"It still looks incredible," he replies, staring at the island gleefully. "Will I be allowed to visit?"

"We're on leave, Christophe, we can do whatever we please. I plan on spending most of my time with my family and my fiancée."

"You're going to tell them, right?"

"Of course I'm going to tell them."

"And you're still introducing me to her sister, yes?"

"Of course I will." I push his shoulder lightly. "Now, let's go make sure we haven't left anything important in the cabin."

* * *

_**CHRISTINE**_

"I hate this stupid hood," Madeleine mutters, twisting at her jacket as though it's suffocating her. Erik bends down, the brim of his wide hat shadowing both their faces.

"I know you don't like it, petite, but it's for your own safety," he chides gently. "You only have to wear it until we get in the car with your brother and his friend."

"I still hate it."

"Hate it all you wish." He smiles and chucks her under the chin, making her shriek, before turning his attention to our wandering elder daughter. "Élisabeth, stay close, it's easy to get separated on the piers. Where is your brother?"

"I've got him," Sorina calls from the other end of the dock, where the passengers will be disembarking. "Along with one rather distraught sister of my own." As she approaches us, she removes a photograph from her pocket, and examines it again, the image of a boy with messy hair and an eager smile. "I'm a little nervous about meeting Christophe."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Erik promises, bending down to fix Richard's shirt. "Honestly, Richard, at six, I'd think you'd know how to button properly."

"I hate buttons!" Richard declares, squirming away.

"I know you hate them, but don't you want to show your brother how grown up you are?" Erik scolds him. Richard immediately clamps his mouth shut. By his side, Stela is fussing with her hair.

"Oh, calm down!" Sorina grabs her sister's hands. "You look fine!" One of the other women on the pier shrieks, alerting all of us to the arrival of the passengers. The crowd begins surging towards the ship as its travelers disembark, but the little group that makes up our family holds back, knowing full well Gustave will find us. Sure enough, a familiar head of tousled blond hair appears in the crowd, sticking out from beneath the pointed hat of a soldier.

"Mother!" he yells, pushing through the masses towards us. "Stela!" A young man with messy brown hair follows him, but Gustave has clearly forgotten as he falls into Stela's embrace. The two murmur softly to one another, their faces touching, and Gustave's fingers buried in Stela's hair.

"Well, I suppose introductions will fall to me, then," his companion jokes, stepping forward and giving a quick bow. "I'm Christophe, Madame. It's an honor to meet you."

"Welcome to America, Christophe," Erik says, stepping forward to shake Christophe's hand. "I trust my son has been well behaved."

"His behavior has been beyond reproach," Christophe promises. "And I believe he had something to tell all of you." He jabs Gustave in the ribs with his elbow. "Gustave!"

"Let them have their moment," Erik chuckles. "I'm more than capable of introducing our little family. This is Richard and Élisabeth." He nudges the twins forward. Élisabeth makes a show of curtsying elaborately, and beams up at Christophe in admiration. Richard gives a little nod, but keeps his eyes focused on the empty holster at Christophe's side.

"Where's your gun?" he asks bluntly. "I thought soldiers had guns."

"Richard!"

"It's quite all right, Madame," Christophe says, waving it off. "He's only curious. I've left my gun in a safe place. There's no war here in America, yes, Richard? Not when there are brave boys like you to protect it. The kaiser's too scared to come here." That seems to be all it takes to put Richard into the same state of adoration that Élisabeth is in. "And who is the little girl hiding behind her Papa?" Madeleine sticks her head out from the crook of Erik's arm, and points to her chest.

"I'm Maddy," she says. "But I'm Madeleine when I'm naughty." That makes Christophe chuckle and reach out to tousle her hair, pushing her hood back as he does. For one deadly silent moment, no one says anything and Madeleine pulls her hood back up, staring down at the ground.

"May I ask how—"

"She was born that way." Erik interrupts. "And I will thank you not to mention it again, she's very sensitive about it."

"Of… Of course, Monsieur. I'm sorry, Maddy, I did not mean to upset you."

"It's okay," she says almost inaudibly. "You didn't know." Whether it is to take the attention from Madeleine, or just impatience, I don't know, but Sorina clears her throat, causing Christophe to look at her.

"You must be Sorina, then?" Christophe guesses, slipping back into his warm smile easily. "The photographs hardly do you justice."

Sorina blushes. "You're very kind to say that," she whispers shyly. "I'm pleased to meet you." Christophe lifts her hand and kisses it lightly, making her squeak a little. Élisabeth and Richard both laugh, and Erik allows himself a small chuckle. Embarrassed further, Sorina tries to regain her composure. "I'd… I'd introduce you to my sister, but she's otherwise engaged."

"Again, it's quite all right," Christophe reassures her. "But I'd hate to give away the surprise." Gustave finally seems to remember his family, and pulls away from Stela, although the two of them keep their hands clasped tightly together. "Well, are you going to tell them, or no?"

"I'm getting to that!" Gustave retorts.

"Getting to what?" Stela asks, leaning into him. "Tell us."

"I'm getting promoted," he announces proudly. "Effective upon my return to the war front. Aide-de-camp for Général Milan Stefanik."

"And that means you won't be fighting?" Maddy asks, overcoming her shyness of Christophe so as to latch her arms around Gustave's leg. Gustave opens his mouth to respond, but Christophe interrupts eagerly

"He'll be helping to plan the battles!"

"And acting as a translator." Gustave amends. "Whatever I'm needed to be, really."

"Well done," Erik says, masking any distaste he might have for this war. As for myself, I just feel tired. I want back what we had. I want that brief shining moment where we were all happy. No wars, no fighting, none of it. I can feel it now, close enough that my fingers can graze it, but there is still that dark shadow looming over us, still threatening to tear this fragile little paradise we've built.

* * *

A/N: THE MUSE LIVES!


	21. Our Story Is Done

**_MADELEINE_**

"Bored, bored, bored." I roll around on the floor. "BOOOOORED."

"Madeleine, stop making all that noise." Papa scolds.

"But it's not fair, Papa!" I whine. "He hasn't spent any time with me! He helped Richard and Élisa with their music, but he's spending all the other time with Stela, Sorina, and Christophe!"

"You'll understand when you're in love, little one."

"I'm never going to fall in love."

"Famous last words, _petite_."

"No, I mean it. It's icky! All this sticky kissing, and screaming at night." He knocks over some of his papers, staring at me in shock.

"What do you mean, screaming?"

"_OH, GOD, YES_!" I yell as loud as I can. He shakes his head in the 'I'm very disappointed in you' way.

"You're nighttime exploring again, aren't you?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Don't do that anymore, Madeleine. There are certain things a five year old girl should not do, and exploring a tower in the dead of night is one of them."

"But—"

"No more, do you understand me?"

"I understand." I don't say that I'll do what he wants. "Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Does everyone ignore me because I'm the baby?"

"I wouldn't know." He opens his arms and I climb into his lap. "Your grandmother once thought she'd had a baby after me, and she showered him with attention."

"How do you think you have a baby without having one?"

"I may have had something to do with it." He smiles guiltily. "I wasn't a very good boy when I was your age."

"Did you get punished a lot?"

"Yes, I did. And I know how bad that can feel, which is why I'm generally nicer to you and your siblings. Your Mamma and Meg grew up with a rather formidable mother."

"What's formidable?"

"Intimidating."

"What's intimidating?"

"A little bit scary."

"Oh. I know what scary is."

"I know you do. You're clever." He pinches my nose, and I squeal. "Do you not like that? How about here? How about all over?" He starts tickling me all over and I shriek even louder.

"PAPA, NOOOOOOO!" He stops and kisses my cheek.

"I love you, remember that," he tells me.

"I will. Papa?"

"Yes, Madeleine?"

"If people don't ignore me because I'm the baby, do they ignore me because I'm ugly?"

"Madeleine—"

"You don't have to lie to me, Papa, I know I am. I saw it when Christophe looked at me."

"Madeleine, you're confusing ugly with different. You and I are different. It just took your mother a very long time to teach me that, and I don't want you to go through the same things I did as a child. Just because we're different does not mean there isn't beauty in here." He taps my chest. "Do you understand?"

"I… I think so. How do I make people see what's inside?"

"You find what you love and let it show. So, what do you love, Madeleine." I suck in my face, trying to think.

"Stories!"

Papa laughs and ruffles my hair. "Then tell your stories, petite. A story is a wonderful way to make the world love you."

* * *

_That was a very long time ago, and things changed. Christophe and Sorina disappeared with three days left before the boys had been due to return. We found out later that they'd eloped on the next ship back to France, where they stayed for the rest of their lives. Christophe went back to serving in the war, which he survived, but they did not see the end of the second great war the world faced. Christophe was killed in action and Sorina taken by the Germans for being a gypsy. We never saw them again, but they sent letters until the invasion. The loss of her sister hit Stela very hard, but she found comfort in Gustave and our family._

___Gustave went back to the battlefield alone, and married _Stela when the Great War ended. It was very private and simple, just our family, really, which included Meg, Thomas, and their own son, Tommy. They started a family of their own: three little girls, named Meg, Sorina, and Christine. Our father acted disappointed that there weren't any grandsons, but we all knew he doted on the girls. We all did. 

_Élisa got sick of singing when she was sixteen, and hopped on the first train to California when she was done with school, something Mother was furious about it until we saw her in the movies. Élisa became one of the darlings of Hollywood, then quit due to being "bored of it." After that, she returned to New York, and took up any activity she could think of, only to abandon it when it no longer held her interest. This was also the way she worked with men, and it became something of a right of passage among the men of New York to attempt being interesting enough to hold Élisabeth de Chagny's attention for more than one evening, as well as give our mother grey hairs in the process. Needless to say, she surprised us all with her marriage to Thomas Winterfield, Jr. They gave each other merry hell for the rest of their lives, mainly due to Tommy's ability to be spontaneous._

_Richard did his best to be Élisa's opposite, going from his private boy's school to Harvard University, and its attached law school. Though he did inherit the Chagny estate, and was raised by one of America's leading entrepreneurs, he decided to champion the lower classes, even working with President Johnson on his "Great Society." There wasn't any wedding for him, though. It wasn't considered acceptable, but our family did make room for Harry when he joined us. We found it hard not to, he was just that likable of a person._

_Father retired and gave Gustave his various companies as a 'present' on his thirtieth birthday. He and Mother enjoyed retirement immensely, though I think they regretted their lack of a true musical protege, as all of us found greater callings: love, adventure, a crusade … and for me, stories. _

_I started collecting stories in my spare time, running around Coney Island in masks and hoods, watching people and learning their stories. I told these stories in little journals, and read them to my father every night. When I got older, I began sending them into the fiction columns of newspapers and magazines, calling myself the Phantom of Manhattan, something that amused Father and made Mother roll her eyes. _

_I was the only one of their children who didn't find love with someone, so I stayed with them. Their journey might have taken them a very long time, but when people are meant to find each other, it happens. I didn't want someone to love me like my mother loved my father. I didn't want it. They were really all the love I needed._

_~Madeleine Carriere_

_1979_

* * *

Author's final note: Thank you to everyone who stuck through this with me. I'm sorry if you wanted the story to be longer, but I could feel my muse slipping away quickly, and I wanted to be able to finish this and move my attention to other projects. Again, thank you. For everything.


End file.
